
Acadian 


^3) Charles G. D. Roberts 


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THE YOUNG ACADIAN 


TKIlorfts of 

(Tbarles (5. 2). IRoberts 


The Young Acadian . . . . . ^ .50 

The Cruise of the Yacht “Dido” , . .50 

The Haunter of the Pine Gloom . .50 

The Lord of the Air 50 

The King of the Mamozekel ... .50 

The Watchers of the Camp-fire . . .50 

The Return to the Trails ... .50 

The Little People of the Sycamore . .50 

Red Fox 2.00 

The Watchers of the Trails . . . 2.00 

The Kindred of the Wild . . . 2.00 

Earth’s Enigmas 1.50 

The Heart That Knows . . . .1.50 

The Heart of the Ancient Wood . . 1.50 

The Prisoner of Mademoiselle . . 1.50 

Barbara Ladd 1.50 

The P'orge in the Forest .... 1.50 

A Sister to Evangeline .... 1.50 

Bv the Marshes of Minas . . . 1.50 

Cameron of Lochiel { translated ) . . 1.50 


X. (T. page & Company 

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that’s SAID HE STEADILY. ‘KEEP YOUR 

HANDS OFF ! ’ ” (.See page gs) 


Cosg Corner Series 

I 

The Young Acadian 

Or 

The Raid from Beausejour 


By 

Charles G. D. Roberts 

Author of *' 

“The Cruise of the Yacht Dido,'' “Red Fox,” “The 
Kindred of the Wild,” “ The Heart of the Ancient 
Wood,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

Blanche McManus 



Boston ^ S' ^ ^ 

L. C. Page & Company 

s s s igoj 




) U3RARY of CONGRESS f 
■ Two Gooles Rocelvod j 

\ JUN 29 130f 


Ccpynffht Entry 
CLASS A XXc., MOi I 
COPY b. 


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Copyright, iSg4 
By Hunt & Eaton 


Copyright, igoy 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


COLONIAL PRESS 
Printed by C. H . S intends &t* Co. 
Boston, U.S. A. 



CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

“ Beaubassin Must Go 

. 

7 

II. 

Pierre Visits the English Lines 

• 25 

III. 

French and English . 

. 

• 39 

IV. 

Preparing for the Raid . 

. 

• 57 

V. 

The Midnight March 

. 

• 70 

VI. 

The Surprise 

. 

. 86 

VII. 

Pierre’s Little One . 

. 

. 107 

VIII. 

The New Englanders 


. 121 



i 





YOUR HANDS OFF ! ’ ” (See page 92 ) Frontispiece 
“ The French soldiers were talking in 


LOUD, EXCITED TONES ” 8 

“ The boy stood a few moments in irreso- 
lution 36 

“ The red flag was seized by a tall 

SAVAGE ” 47 

“‘Our hearts are not with the English! 

We are the children of France ’ ” .69 

“ ‘ Edie,’ good wife Lecorbeau would say to 
her, ‘where is your mother?*” . .113 




THE YOUNG ACADIAN 


OR 


THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR 


CHAPTER I. 


“ Beaubassin Must Go I ” 



N the hill of Beausejour, one April 


morning in the year 1750 A. D., a 
little group of French soldiers stood 
watching, with gestures of anger and 
alarm, the approach of several small 
ships across the yellow waters of Chig- 
necto Bay. The ships were flying 
British colors. Presently they came to 
anchor near the mouth of the Missa- 
guash, a narrow tidal river about two 
miles to the southeast of Beausejour. 
There the ships lay swinging at their 
cables, and all seemed quiet on board. 
The group on Beausejour knew that the 
British would attempt no landing for 
some hours, as the tide was scarce past 
the ebb, and half a mile of red mire lay 


8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

between the water and the firm green 
edges of the marsh. 

The French soldiers were talking in 
loud, excited tones. As they spoke a 
tallish lad drew near and listened 
eagerly. The boy, who was apparently 
about sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
was clad in the rough, yellow-gray home- 
spun cloth of the Acadians. His name 
was Pierre Lecorbeau, and he had just 
come from the village of Beaubassin to 
carry eggs, milk, and cheeses to the 
camp on Beausejour. The words he 
now heard seemed to concern him 
deeply, for his dark face paled anxiously 
as he listened. 

“Yes, I tell you,’' one of the soldiers 
was saying, “ Beaubassin must go. Mon- 
sieur the abbe has said so. You know, 
he came into camp this morning about 
daybreak, and has been shut up with the 
colonel ever since. But he talks so loud 
when he’s angry that Jacques has got 
hold of all his plans. His Reverence has 
brought two score of his Micmacs with 



“ THE FRENCH SOLDIERS WERE TALKING IN LOUD, 
EXCITED TONES ” 





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“ BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! 


9 


him from Cobequid, and has left ’em 
over in the woods behind Beaubassin. 
He swears that sooner than let the 
English establish themselves in the 
village and make friends with those 
mutton-head Acadians, he will burn the 
whole place to the ground.” 

“ And he’ll do it, too, will the terrible 
father ! ” interjected another soldier. 

“ When will the fun begin ? ” asked a 
third. 

“ O ! ” responded the first speaker, “if 
the villagers make no fuss, and are ready 
to cross the river and come and settle 
over here with us, they shall have all the 
time they want for removing their stuff 
— all day, in fact. But if they are stub- 
born, and would like to stay where they 
are, and knuckle down to the English, 
they will see their roofs blazing over 
their heads just about the time the first 
English boat puts off for shore. If any 
one kicks, why, as like as not, one of His 
Reverence’s red skinswill lift his hair for 
him.” 


lO THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

A chorus of exclamations, with much 
shrugging of shoulders, went round the 
group at this ; and one said thought- 
fully : “ When my fighting days are 

over, and I get back to France, I shall 
pray all the saints to keep Father Le 
Loutre in Acadie. With such fierce 
priests in old France I should be afraid 
to go to mass ! ” 

Pierre listened to all this with a sink- 
ing heart. Not waiting to hear more, 
he turned away, with the one thought of 
getting home as soon as possible to 
warn his father of the destruction hang- 
ing over their happy home. At this 
moment the soldier who had been doing 
most of the talking caught sight of him, 
and called out : 

“ Hullo, youngster, come here a min- 
ute ! ” 

Pierre turned back with obvious re- 
luctance, and the speaker continued : 

“ Your father, now, the good Antoine 
— whom may the saints preserve, for his 
butter and his cheeses are right excel- 


“BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! ” II 

lent — does he greatly love this gentle 
abbe of yours ? ” 

The boy looked about him apprehen- 
sively, and blurted out, “ No, monsieur!” 
A flush mounted to his cheek, and he 
continued, in a voice of bitterness, “We 
hate him ! ” Then, as if terrified with 
having spoken his true thought, the lad 
darted away down the slope, and was 
soon seen speeding at a long trot across 
the young grass of the marsh to the ford 
of the Missaguash. 

At the time when our story opens, 
events in Acadie were fast ripening to 
that unhappy issue known as “the ex- 
pulsion of the Acadians,” which furnished 
Longfellow with the theme of “ Evange- 
line.” The Acadian peninsula, now 
Nova Scotia, had been ceded by France 
to England. The dividing line between 
French and English territory was the 
Missaguash stream, winding through the 
marshes of the isthmus of Chignecto 
which connects Acadie with the main- 
land. The Acadians had become British 


12 THE RAID FROM BEAUSfiJOUR. 

subjects in name, but all the secret efforts 
of France were devoted to preventing 
them from becoming so in sentiment 
What is now New Brunswick was still 
French territory, as were also Prince 
Edward Island and Cape Breton. It 
was the hope of the French king, Louis 
XV, that if the Acadians could be kept 
thoroughly French at heart Acadie 
might yet be won back to shine on the 
front of New France. 

As the two nations were now at peace, 
any tampering with the allegiance of the 
Acadians could only be carried on in 
secret. In the hands of the French 
there remained just two forces to be 
employed — persuasion and intimidation ; 
and their religion was the medium 
through which these forces were applied. 
The Acadians had their own priests. 
Such of these as would lend themselves 
to the schemes of the government were 
left in their respective parishes ; others, 
more conscientious, were transferred to 
posts where their scruples would be less 


“ BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! ” 1 3 

inconvenient. If any Acadian began to 
show signs of wishing to live his own 
life quietly, careless as to whether a 
Louis or a George reigned over him, he 
was promptly brought to terms by the 
threat that the Micmacs, who remained 
actively French, would be turned loose 
upon him. Under such a threat the un- 
happy Acadian made all haste to forget 
his partiality for the lenient British 
rule. 

The right hand of French influence in 
Acadie at this time was the famous 
Abbe Le Loutre, missionary to the 
Micmac Indians at Cobequid. To this 
man s charge may well be laid the larger 
part of the misfortunes which befell the 
Acadian people. He was violent in his 
hatred of the English, unscrupulous in 
his methods, and utterly pitiless in the 
carrying out of his project. His energy 
and his vindictiveness were alike untir- 
ing; and his ascendency over his savage 
flock, who had been Christianized in 
name only, gave a terrible weapon into 


14 the raid from BEAUSlfejOUR. 

his hands. Liberal were the rewards 
this fierce priest drew from the coffers of 
Quebec and of Versailles. 

In order to keep the symbol of French 
power and authority ever before Acadian 
eyes, and to hinder the spread of Eng- 
lish influence, a force had been sent from 
Quebec, under the officers La Come and 
Boishebert, to hold the hill of Beause- 
jour, which was practically the gate of 
Acadie. From Beausejour the flourish- 
ing settlement of Beaubassin, on the 
English side of the Missaguash, was over- 
awed and kept to the French allegiance. 
The design of the French was to induce 
all those Acadians whom they could ab- 
solutely depend upon to remain in their 
homes within the English lines, as a 
means whereby to confound the English 
counsels. Those, however, who were sus- 
pected of leaning to the British, either 
from sloth or policy, were to be bullied, 
coaxed, frightened, or compelled by Le 
Loutre and his braves into forsaking 
their comfortable homes and moving 


"beaubassin must go!” 15 

into new settlements on the French side 
of the boundary. 

But the English authorities at Halifax, 
after long and astonishing forbearance, 
had begun to develop a scheme of their 
own ; and the fleet which, on this April 
morning, excited such consternation 
among the watchers on Beausejour, 
formed a part of it. Lord Cornwallis 
had decided that an English force estab- 
lished in Beaubassin would be the most 
effective check upon the influence of 
Beausejour ; and the vessels now at 
anchor off the mouth of the red and 
winding Missaguash contained a little 
army of four hundred British troops, 
under command of Major Lawrence. 
This expedition had been sent out from 
Halifax with a commendable secrecy, 
but neither its approach nor its purpose 
could be kept hidden from the ever-alert 
Le Loutre. Since Beaubassin was on 
British soil, no armed opposition could 
be made to the landing of the British 
force ; and the troops on Beausejour 


1 6 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

could only gnaw their mustaches and 
gaze in angry silence. But Le Loutre 
was resolved that on the arrival of the 
British there should be no more Beau- 
bassin. The villagers were not to re- 
main in such bad company ! 

Pierre Lecorbeau was swift of foot. 
As he sped across the gray-green levels, 
at this season of the year spongy with 
rains, he glanced over his shoulder and 
saw the abbe, with his companions, just 
quitting the log cabin which served as 
the quarters of Boishebert. The boy’s 
brow took on a yet darker shadow. 
When he reached the top of the dike 
that bordered the Missaguash, he paused 
an instant and gazed seaward. Pierre 
was eagerly French at heart, loving 
France, as he hated Le Loutre, with a 
fresh and young enthusiasm ; and as his 
eyes rested on the crimson folds, the 
red, blue, and white crosses that streamed 
from the topmasts of the English ships, 
his eyes flashed with keen hostility. 
Then he vanished over the dike, and 


“BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ] ” I 7 

was soon splashing through the muddy 
shallows of the ford. The water was 
fast deepening, and he thought to him- 
self, “If Monsieur the abbe doesn’t 
hurry, he will have to swim where I am 
walking but knee-deep ! ” 

There was another stretch of marsh 
for Pierre to cross ere reaching the gentle 
and fruitful slopes on which the village 
was outspread. On the very edge of the 
village, halfway up a low hill jutting out 
into the Missaguash marsh, stood the 
cabin of Pierre’s father amid its orchards. 
There was little work to do on the farm 
at this season. The stock had all been 
tended, and the family were gathered in 
the kitchen when Pierre, breathless and 
gasping, burst in with his evil tidings. 

Now in the household of Antoine Le- 
corbeau, and in Beaubassin generally, not 
less than among the garrison of Beause- 
jour, the coming of the English fleet had 
produced a commotion. But in the heart 
of Lecorbeau there was less anxiety than 
curiosity. This temperate and sagacious 
2 


1 8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

farmer had preserved an appearance of 
unimpeachable fidelity to the French, but 
in his inmost soul he appreciated the tol- 
erance of the British rule, and longed to 
see it strengthened. If the visitors were 
coming to stay, as was rumored to be 
the case, then, to Antoine Lecorbeau’s 
thinking, the day was a lucky one for 
Beaubassin. He thought how he would 
snap his fingers at Le Loutre and his 
Micmacs. But he was beginning to exult 
too soon. 

When Pierre told his story, and the 
family realized that their kindly home was 
doomed, the little dark kitchen, with its 
wooden ceiling, was filled with lamenta- 
tions. Such of the children as were big 
enough to understand the calamity wept 
aloud, and the littler ones cried from sym- 
pathy. Pierre's father for a moment ap- 
peared bowed down beneath the stroke, 
but the mother, a stout, dark, gentle-faced 
woman, suddenly stopped her sobs and 
cried out in a shrill voice, with her queer 
Breton accent : 


“ BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! IQ 

“ Antoine, Antoine, we will defy the 
wicked, cruel abbe, and pray the English 
to protect us from him. Did not Father 
Xavier, just before he was sent away, tell 
us that the English were just, and that it 
was our duty to be faithful to them ? 
How can we go out into this rough spring 
weather with no longer a roof to cover 
us?” 

This appeal roused the Acadian. His 
shrewd sense and knowledge of those 
with whom he had to deal came at once 
to his aid. 

“Nay, nay, mother!” said he, rising 
and passing his gnarled hand over his 
forehead, “ it is even as Pierre has said. 
We must be the first to do the bidding of 
the abbe, and must seem to do it of our 
own accord. It will be hours yet ere the 
English be among us, and long ere Le 
Loutre will have had time to work his 
will upon those who refuse to do his bid- 
ding. Do thou get the stuff together. 
This night we must sleep on the shore of 
the stream and find us a new home at 


20 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 

Beausejour. To the sheds, Pierre, and 
yoke the cattle. Hurry, boy, hurry, for 
there is everything to do and small time 
for the doing of it.” 

From Lecorbeau’s cottage the news of 
Le Loutres decree spread like wildfire 
through the settlement. Some half dozen 
reckless characters declared at once in the 
abbe’s favor, and set out across the 
marsh to welcome him and offer their aid. 
A few more, a very few, set themselves 
reluctantly to follow the example of An- 
toine Lecorbeau, who bore a great name 
in the village for his wise counsels. But 
most of the villagers got stubborn, and 
vowed that they would stay by their 
homes, whether it was Indians or English 
bid them move. The resolution of these 
poor souls was perhaps a little shaken as 
a long line of painted and befeathered 
Micmacs, appearing from the direction 
of the wooded hills of Jolicoeur, drew 
stealthily near and squatted down in the 
outermost skirts of the village. But 
Beaubassin had not had the experience 


BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! ” 21 

with Le Loutre that had fallen to the 
lot of other settlements, and the unwise 
ones hardened their hearts in their de- 
cision. 

As Le Loutre, with his little party, en- 
tered the village, he met Antoine Lecor- 
beau setting out for Beausejour with a 
huge cartload of household goods, drawn 
by a yoke of oxen. The abbe’s fierce, 
close-set eyes gleamed with approval, 
and he accosted the old man in a cordial 
voice. 

“ This is indeed well done, Antoine. 
I love thy zeal for the grand cause. The 
saints will assuredly reward thee, and I 
will myself do for thee the little that lies 
in my poor power! But why so heavy 
of cheer, man ? ” 

“ Alas, father ! ” returned Lecorbeau, 
sadly, “ this is a sorrowful day. It is a 
grievous hardship to forsake ones hearth, 
and these fruitful fields, and this well bear- 
ing orchard that I have planted with my 
own hands. But better this than to live 
in humiliation and in jeopardy every hour; 


22 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

for I learn that these English are coming 
to take possession and to dwell among us !” 

The abbe, as Lecorbeau intended, quite 
failed to catch the double meaning in this 
speech, which he interpreted in accord- 
ance with his own feelings. Like many 
another unscrupulous deceiver, Le Loutre 
was himself not difficult to deceive. 

“ Well, cheer up, Antoine ! ” he replied, 
“ for thou shalt have good lands on the 
other side of the hill ; and thou wilt count 
thyself blest when thou seest what shall 
happen to some of these slow beasts here, 
who care neither for France nor the 
Church so long as they be let alone to 
sleep and fill their bellies.” 

As the great cart went creaking on, 
Lecorbeau looked over his shoulder, with 
an inscrutable gaze, and watched the re- 
treating figure of the priest. 

“ Thou mayst be a good servant to 
France,” he murmured, “but it is an ill 
service, a sorry service, thou dost the 
Church!” 

Within the next few hours, while An- 


“ BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! ” 23 

toine and his family had been getting 
nearly all their possessions across the 
Missaguash, first by the fords, and then 
by the aid of the great scow which served 
for a ferry at high tide, the tireless abbe 
had managed to coax or threaten nearly 
every inhabitant of the village. His In- 
dians stalked after him, apparently heed- 
less of everything. His few allies among 
the Acadians, who had assumed the In- 
dian garb for the occasion, scattered them- 
selves over the settlement repeating the 
abbe’s exhortations ; but the villagers, 
though with anxious hearts, held to their 
cabins, refusing to stir, and watching for 
the English boats to come ashore. They 
did not realize how intensely in earnest 
and how merciless the abbe could be, for 
they had nothing but hearsay and his 
angry face to judge by. But their awak- 
ening was soon to come. 

Early in the afternoon the tide was nigh 
the full. At a signal from the masthead 
of the largest ship there spread a sudden 
activity throughout the fleet, and imme- 


24 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

diately a number of boats were lowered. 
For this the abbe had been waiting. 
Snatching a blazing splinter of pine from 
the hearth of a cottage close to the church, 
he rushed up to the homely but sacred 
building about which clustered the warm- 
est affections of the villagers. At the 
same moment several of his followers ap- 
peared with armfuls of straw from a 
neighboring barn. This inflammable stuff, 
with some dry brush, was piled into the 
porch and fired by the abbess own hand. 
The structure was dry as tinder, and al- 
most instantly a volume of smoke rolled 
up, followed by long tongues of eager flame, 
which looked strangely pallid and cruel 
in the afternoon sunshine. A yell broke 
from the Indians, and then there fell a 
silence, broken only by the crackling of 
the flames. The English troops, realiz- 
ing in a moment what was to occur, bent 
to their oars with redoubled vigor, think- 
ing to put a stop to the shameless work. 
And the name of Le Loutre was straight- 
way on their lips. 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 25 


CHAPTER II. 

Pierre Visits the English Lines. 

HE ships were a mile from shore, 



^ and the shore nearly a league from 
the doomed village. When that column 
of smoke and flame rolled up over their 
beloved church the unhappy Acadian 
villagers knew, too late, the character of 
the man with whom they had to deal. It 
was no time for them to look to the ships 
for help. They began with trembling 
haste to pack their movables, while Le 
Loutre and a few of his supporters went 
from house to house with great coolness, 
deaf to all entreaties, and behind the 
feet of each sprang up a flame. A few 
of the more stolid or more courageous 
of the villagers still held out, refusing to 
move even at the threat of the firebrand ; 
but these gave way when the Indians 
came up, yelling and brandishing their 
tomahawks. Le Loutre proclaimed that 
anyone refusing to cross the lines and 


26 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

take refuge at Beausejour should be 
scalped. The rest, he said, might retain 
possession of just so much of their stuff 
as they could rescue from the general 
conflagration. The English, he swore, 
should find nothing of Beaubassin except 
its ashes. 

Presently the thin procession of teams, 
winding its gloomy way across the plains 
of the Missaguash toward Beausejour, be- 
came a hurrying throng of astonished and 
wailing villagers, each one carrying with 
him on his back or in his rude ox cart 
the most precious of his movable posses- 
sions; while the women, with loud sob- 
bing, dragged along by their hands the 
frightened and reluctant little ones. By 
another road, leading into the wooded 
hills where the villagers were wont to cut 
their winter firewood, a few of the more 
hardy and impetuous of the Acadians, 
disdaining to bend to the authority of Le 
Loutre, fled away into the wilds with 
their muskets and a little bread ; and 
these the Indians dared not try to stop. 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 27 

The English boats, driven furiously, 
dashed high up the slippery beach, and 
the troops swarmed over the brown and 
sticky dikes. Major Lawrence led the 
way at a run across the marshes ; but the 
soft soil clogged their steps, and a wide 
bog forced them far to one side. When 
they reached the outskirts of the village 
the sorrowful dusk of the April evening 
was falling over the further plains and the 
full tide behind them, but the sky in front 
was ablaze. There was little wind, and 
the flames shot straight aloft, and the 
smoke hung on the scene in dense cur- 
tains, doubling the height of the hill be- 
hind the village, and reflecting back alike 
the fierce heat and the dreadful glare. At 
one side, skulking behind some outlying 
barns just bursting into flame, a few In- 
dians were sighted and pursued. The 
savages fired once on their pursuers, and 
then, with a yell of derision and defiance, 
disappeared behind the smoke. The Eng- 
lish force went into camp with the con- 
flagration covering its rear, and phil- 


28 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

osophically built its camp fires and cooked 
its evening meal with the aid of the burn- 
ing sheds and hayricks. 

As Pierre Lecorbeau drove his ox cart 
up the slope of Beausejour toward the 
commandant’s cabin, where his father 
was awaiting him, he halted and looked 
back while the blowing oxen took 
breath. His mother, who had stayed to 
the last, was sitting in the cart on a pile 
of her treasures. The children had been 
taken to a place of safety by their 
father, who had left the final stripping 
of the home to his wife and boy, while 
he went ahead to arrange for the night’s 
shelter. Antoine Lecorbeau had lost his 
home, his farm, his barns, his orchards, 
and his easy satisfaction with life ; but 
thanks to Pierre’s promptitude and his 
own shrewdness he had saved all his 
household stuff, his cattle, his hay and 
grain, and the little store of gold coin 
which had been hidden under the great 
kitchen hearth. His house was the last 
to be fired, and even now, as Pierre and 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 29 

his mother stood watching, long red 
horns of flame were pushed forth, writh- 
ing, from the low gables. The two were 
silent, save for the woman’s occasional 
heavy sobs. Presently the roof fell in, 
and then the boy’s wet eyes flashed. A 
body of the English troops could be 
seen pitching tents in the orchard. 
“Mother!” said the boy, “what if we 
had stayed at home and waited for these 
English to protect us ? They are our 
enemies, these English ; and the abbe 
is our enemy ; and the Indians are our 
enemies ; and our only friends are — 
yonder ! ” 

As Pierre spoke he turned his back 
on the lurid sky and pointed to the 
crest of Beausejour. There, in long, 
dark lines, stood nearly a thousand 
French troops, drawn up on parade. 
The light from the ruined village 
gleamed in blood-red flashes from their 
steel, and over them the banner of 
France flapped idly with its lilies. 

That night, because Antoine Lecor- 


30 THE RAID FROM BEAUSi^JOUR. 

beau was a leader among the villagers 
of Beaubassin, he and his family had 
shelter in a small but warm stable where 
some of the officers’ horses were quar- 
tered. Their goods were stacked and 
huddled together in the open air, and 
Pierre and his father cut boughs and 
spread blankets to cover them from the 
weather. In the warm straw of the 
stable, hungry and homesick, the chil- 
dren clung about their mother and wept 
themselves to sleep. But they were 
fortunate compared with many of their 
acquaintances, whom Pierre could see 
crowded roofless about their fires, in 
sheltered hollows and under the little 
hillside copses. The night was raw and 
showery, and there was not houseroom 
in Beausejour for a tenth part of the 
homeless Acadians. 

By dawn Pierre was astir. He rose 
from his cramped position under a 
manger, stretched himself, shook the 
chaff and dust from his thick black hair, 
and stepped out into the chilly morning. 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 3 I 

The cattle had been hobbled and allowed 
to feed at large, but the boy’s eye soon 
detected that his pet yoke had disap- 
peared. Nowhere on Beausejour could 
they be found, and he concluded they 
must have freed themselves completely 
and wandered back home. Pierre had 
no reason to fear the English, but he 
dreaded lest the troops should take a 
fancy to make beef out of his fat oxen; 
so, after a word to his father, he set out 
for the burned village. Early as it was, 
however, Beausejour was all astir when 
he left, and he wondered what the 
soldiers were so busy about. 

As Pierre approached the smoldering 
ruins of his home, an English soldier, 
standing on guard before the tents in the 
orchard, ordered him to halt. Pierre 
didn’t understand the word, but he com- 
prehended the tone in which it was 
uttered. He saw his beloved oxen 
standing with bowed heads by the water 
trough, and he tried to make the soldier 
understand that he had come for those 


32 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

oxen, which belonged to him. On this 
point Pierre spoke very emphatically, as 
if to make his French more intelligi- 
ble to the Englishman. But his strug- 
gles were all in vain. The soldier 
looked first puzzled, then vacuously 
vise ; then he knit his brows and looked 
at the oxen. Finally he laughed, took 
Pierre by the elbow, and led him toward 
one of the tents. At this moment a 
pleasant-faced young officer came out of 
the tent, and, taking in the situation at a 
glance, addressed Pierre in French: 

“ Well, my boy,” said he, kindly, “ what 
are you doing here so early ? ” 

Pierre became polite at once ; so surely 
does courtesy find courtesy. 

“ Sir,” said he, taking off his hat, “ I 
have come after my father s oxen, those 
beasts yonder, which strayed back here in 
the night. This was our home yesterday.” 

Pierre's voice quivered as he spoke 
these last words. 

The officer looked very much inter 
ested. 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 33 

“ Certainly,” said he, “ you shall have 
your oxen. We don’t take anything 
that doesn’t belong to us. But tell me, 
why is not this your home to-day ? 
Why have you all burnt down your 
houses and run away 7 We are the true 
friends of all the Acadians. What had 
you to fear?” 

“ We didn’t do it ! ” replied the boy. 
“It was monsieur the abbe and his 
Indians ; and they threatened to scalp 
us all if we didn’t leave before you 
came ! ” 

The young officer's face grew very 
stern at the mention of the abbe, whom 
he knew to mean Le Loutre. 

“Ah! ” he muttered, “ I see it all now! 
We might have expected as much from 
that snake ! But tell me,” he continued 
to Pierre, “what is going on over on the 
hill this morning ? They are not going 
to attack us, are they? We are on 
English soil here. They know that!” 

“ I don’t know,” said Pierre, looking 
about him, and over at Beausejour. 

8 


34 the raid from beaus^jour. 

" They were very busy getting things 
ready for something when I left. But I 
wanted my oxen, and I didn’t wait to ask. 
May I take them away now, monsieur.^” 

“Very well,” answered the officer, and 
he offered Pierre a shilling. To his 
astonishment Pierre drew himself up 
and wouldn’t touch it. The young man 
still held it out to him, saying: “ Why, it 
is only a little memento ! See, it has a 
hole in it, and you can keep it to re- 
member Captain Howe by. I have 
many friends among your people ! ” 

“ My heart is French,” replied Pierre, 
with resolution. “ I cannot take money 
from an enemy.” 

“ But we English are not your enemies. 
We wish to do you good, to win your 
love. It is that wicked Le Loutre who 
is your enemy.” 

“ Yes,” assented Pierre, very heartily. 
“We all hate him. And many of us 
love the English, and would be friends 
if we dared ; but / do not love any but 
the Holy Saints and the French. I love 


PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 35 

France!” and the boys voice rang with 
enthusiasm. 

A slight shade of sadness passed over 
the young captain’s earnest face. Ed- 
ward Howe was known throughout 
Acadia as a lover of the Acadians, and 
as one who had more than once stood 
between them and certain well-deserved 
restraint. He was attracted by Pierre’s 
intelligence of face and respectful fear- 
lessness of demeanor, and he determined 
to give the young enthusiast something 
to think about. 

“ Do you not know,” said he, “ that 
your beloved France is at the back of all 
this misery.^” And he pointed to the 
smoking ruins of the village. “ Do you 
not know that it is the gold of the 
French king that pays Le Loutre and 
his savages ? Do you not know that 
while King Louis instructs his agents in 
Quebec and Louisburg, and yonder at 
Beausejour, to excite the Indians, and 
certain of your own people too, to all 
sorts of outrages against peaceful Eng- 


36 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

lish settlers, he at the same time puts all 
the blame upon your people, and swears 
that he does his utmost to restrain you? 
O, you are so sorely deceived, and some 
day you will open your eyes to it, but 
perhaps too late ! My heart bleeds for 
your unhappy people.” 

The young man turned back into his 
tent, after a word to the sentry who had 
brought Pierre in. The boy stood a few 
moments in irresolution, wanting to 
speak again to the young officer, whose 
frank eyes and winning manner had 
made a deep impression upon him. But 
his faith in the France of his imagination 
was not daunted. Presently, speaking to 
his oxen in a tone of command, he drove 
the submissive brutes away across the 
marsh. 

As he left the English camp a bugle 
rang out shrilly behind him, and a great 
stir arose in the lines. He glanced 
about him, and continued his way. 
Then he observed that the slopes of 
Beausejour were dark with battalions on 



“THE BOY STOOD A FEW MOMENTS IN IRRESO- 
LUTION ” 





PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 37 

the march, and he realized with a thrill 
that the lilies were advancing to give 
battle. In another moment, looking be- 
hind him, he saw the scarlet lines of the 
English already under arms, and a sig- 
nal gun boomed from the ships. 

Trembling with excitement, and de- 
termined to carry a musket in the com- 
ing fray, Pierre urged his oxen into a 
gallop, and made a detour to get around 
the French army. By the time he got 
back to his stable, and possessed himself 
of his father's musket, and started down 
the hill at a run, expecting every mo- 
ment to hear his father’s voice calling 
him to return, the soldiers of France had 
reached the river. But here they halted, 
making no move to cross into English 
territory. To have done so would have 
been a violation of the existing treaty 
between France and England. 

Major Lawrence, however, did not 
suspect that the French movement was 
merely what is known as a demonstra- 
tion. He took it for granted that the 


38 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

French were waiting only for some 
favorable condition of the tide in order 
to cross over and attack him in his posi- 
tion. He saw that the French force 
three or four times outnumbered his 
own ; and as his mission was one of 
pacification, he decided not to shed 
blood uselessly. He ordered a retreat 
to the ship. The men went very re- 
luctantly, hating to seem overawed ; 
but Major Lawrence explained the 
situation, and declared that, Beaubas- 
sin being burned, there was no special 
object in remaining. He further prom- 
ised that later in the summer he 
would come again, with a force that 
would be large enough for the undertak- 
ing, and would build a strong fort on the 
hill at whose foot they were now en- 
camped. Then the red files marched 
sullenly back to their boats ; while a 
body of Indians, reappearing from the 
woods, yelled and danced their defiance, 
and the French across the river shouted 
their mocking ballads. 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 


39 


CHAPTER III. 

French and English. 

\^7HEN it was seen that the Eng- 
^ ^ lish were actually reembarking, a 
fierce indignation broke out against Le 
Loutre for the useless cruelty and pre- 
cipitancy of his action. The French 
troops had some little feeling for the 
houseless villagers, and they were 
angered at being deprived of their chief 
and most convenient source of supplies. 
The fierce abbe insisted that the move- 
ment of the English was a ruse of some 
sort ; but when the ships got actually 
under way, with a brisk breeze in their 
sails, he withdrew in deep chagrin, and 
returned with his Micmacs to his village 
on the muddy Shubenacadie. Relieved 
of his dreaded presence the Acadians set 
bravely to work building cabins on the 
new lands which were allotted them back 
of Beausejour, and along the Missaguash, 
Au Lac, andTantramar streams. A few 


40 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:^JOUR. 

were rash enough to return to their 
former holdings in Beaubassin, rebuilding 
among the ashes ; but not so Antoine 
Lecorbeau. On the northwest slope of 
Beausejour, where a fertile stretch of 
uplands skirts the commencement of the 
Great Tantramar marsh, he obtained an 
allotment, and laid his hearthstone anew. 
The burning of Beaubassin had not 
made him love France the more, but it 
had cooled his liking for the English. 
The words of Captain Howe, nevertheless, 
which Pierre had repeated to him faith- 
fully, lay rankling in his heart, and he har- 
bored a bitter suspicion as to the good 
faith of the French authorities. He saw 
that they professed disapproval of the 
methods of Le Loutre, but he began to 
doubt the sincerity of this disapproval. 
Pierre, however, was troubled by no 
such misgivings. 

The summer, though a laborious one, 
slipped by not at all unpleasantly. 
Mother Lecorbeau soon had a roof to 
shelter her little brood of swarthy roist- 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 41 

erers ; a rough shed, built over a hill- 
side spring in a group of willows, served 
as the dairy wherein she made the butter 
and cheese so appreciated by the war- 
riors on Beausejour. Lecorbeau got in 
crops both on his new lands and on the 
old farm, and saw the apples ripening 
abundantly around the ruins of his home 
in Beaubassin. As for Pierre, in his 
scanty hours of leisure he was always to 
be found on the hill, where an old color 
sergeant, pleased with his intelligence 
and his ambition to become a soldier of 
France, was teaching him to read and 
write. This friendly veteran was, in his 
comrades’ eyes, a marvel of clerkly skill, 
for in those days the ability to read and 
write was by no means a universal pos- 
session among the soldiers of France. 

One evening in the first of the autumn, 
when here and there on the dark Minudie 
hills could be seen the scarlet gleam of 
an early-turning maple, just as the bay 
had become a sheet of glowing copper 
under the sunset, a rosy sail appeared on 


42 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

the horizon. The pacing sentry on 
the brow of Beausejour stopped to 
watch it. Presently another rose into 
view, and another, and another ; and 
then Beausejour knew that the English 
fleet had returned. Before the light 
faded out the watchers had counted 
seventeen ships ; and when the next 
morning broke the whole squadron was 
lying at anchor about three miles from 
the shore. 

With the first of daylight Pierre and 
his father hastened up the hill to find 
out what was to be done. To their 
astonishment they learned that the 
troops on Beausejour would do just 
nothing, unless the English should at- 
tempt to land on the French side of the 
Missaguash. They had received from 
Quebec a caution not to transgress 
openly any treaty obligations. To An- 
toine Lecorbeau this news seemed not 
unwelcome. He was for quiet gener- 
ally. But Pierre showed in his face, 
and, indeed, proclaimed aloud, his disap- 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 43 

pointment. The old sergeant laughed 
at his eager pupil, and remarked : 

“ O, my young fire eater, you shall 
have a chance at the beefeaters if you 
like ! His Reverence the abbe arrived in 
Beausejour last night about midnight, 
and he’s going to fight, if we can’t. 
Treaties don’t bother him much. He’s 
got all his Micmacs with him, I guess. 
There they go now — the other side of 
the stream. In a bit you’ll see them at 
work strengthening the line of the dike. 
They’re going to give it to the beefeaters 
pretty hot when they try to come 
ashore. There’s your chance now for a 
brush. His Reverence will take you, fast 
enough.” 

“ Pierre shall do nothing of the sort, 
whether he wants to or not,” interrupted 
Lecorbeau, with sharp emphasis. 

“ I wouldn’t fight under him ! ” ejacu- 
lated the boy, with a ring of scorn in his 
voice. 

The old sergeant shrugged his shoul- 
ders. 


44 the raid from beausejour. 

“ O, very well,” said he. “ I’m of the 
same way of thinking myself But all 
your people are not so particular. Look 
now, over at the dike. Did you ever 
see an Indian that could handle the 
shovel as those fellows are doing. I 
tell you, half those Indians are just your 
folks dressed up, and painted red and 
black, and with feathers stuck in their 
hair. The abbe ropes a lot of you into 
this business, and you’re lucky, Antoine 
Lecorbeau, that he hasn’t called on you 
or Pierre yet.” 

At this suggestion Lecorbeau looked 
grim, but troubled. As for Pierre, how- 
ever, with a boy’s confidence, he ex- 
claimed : 

“Just let him call. I think I see him 
getting us ! ” 

Yet, for all his bitterness against Le 
Loutre, Pierre felt the fever of battle stir 
within him as he watched the prepara- 
tions behind the long, red Missaguash 
dike. His father, seeing the excitement 
in his flashing eyes and flushed counte- 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 45 

nance, exacted from him then and there 
a promise that he would take no part in 
the approaching conflict. 

On that September day the tide was full 
about noon, and with the tide came in the 
English ships. Knowing the anchorage, 
they came right into the river’s mouth, in 
a long, ominously silent line. The mixed 
rabble of Le Loutre crowded low behind 
their breastworks ; and hundreds of eager 
eyes on Beausejour strained their sight 
to catch the first flash of the battle. 

“ Do you see that little knoll yonder 
with the poplars on it?” said Pierre to 
his father and the sergeant. “ Let’s go 
over there and hide in the bushes, and 
we can see twice as well as we can from 
here. There’s a little creek makes round 
it on the far side, and we’ll be just as safe 
as here ! ” 

“Yes,” responded the sergeant, “it’s a 
fine advanced post. We’ll just slip down 
round the foot of the hill as if we were 
bound for the dikes, so there won’t be a 
crowd following us.” 


46 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

As the three sped rapidly across the 
marsh, Antoine Lecorbeau said signifi- 
cantly to his son : 

“ Do you see how these English spare 
our people ? They haven’t fired a single 
big gun, yet with the metal on board their 
ships they could knock those breastworks 
and the men behind them into splinters. 
They could batter down the dike, and let 
the tide right in on them.” 

“ Aye ! aye ! ” assented the old sergeant, 
“ they’re a brave foe, and I would we could 
have a brush with them. They’re landing 
now without firing a shot ! ” 

At this moment the irregular firing from 
the breastwork grew more rapid and sus- 
tained, and our three adventurers hurried 
on to the knoll, eager for a better view. 
They found the post already occupied by 
half a dozen interested villagers, who paid 
no attention to the new arrivals. 

By this time the English boats had 
reached the water’s edge. On this occasion 
Major Lawrence had nearly eight hundred 
men at his command, and was resolved to 





iii 


•"' Itiiln&t'i'- 






raiiyiiui' 


Mu- 


** THE RED FLAG WAS SEIZED BY A TALL SAVAGE ” 







l.l .. 


I 


lil 




1 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 49 

carry his enterprise to a successful issue. 
The troops did not wait to form, under 
the now galling fire from the breastwork, 
but swarmed up the red slope in loose 
skirmishing order, pouring in a hot drop- 
ping fire as they ran. As they reached the 
dike a ringing cheer broke out, and they 
dashed at the awkward and slippery steep. 

A few reached the top, and for a mo- 
ment the English colors crowned the em- 
bankment. But at the same time the 
painted defenders rose with a yell, and 
beat back their assailants with gunstock 
and hatchet. The red flag was seized by 
a tall savage, and Pierre gave a little cry 
of excitement as he thought the enemies^ 
colors were captured. But his enthusiasm 
was premature. The stripling who car- 
ried the colors, finding no chance to use 
his sword, grasped the Indian about the 
waist and dragged him off the dike, when 
he was promptly made captive. 

Now the English withdrew a few paces, 
held back with difficulty by their officers, 
and one, whom the watchers on the knoll 
4 


50 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

took for Lawrence himself, was seen giv- 
ing orders, standing with his back half 
turned to the breastwork, as undisturbed 
as if the shower of Micmac bullets were 
a snowstorm. Presently the redcoats 
charged again, this time slowly and si- 
lently, in long, regular lines. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the sergeant under 
his breath, “ they’ll go through this time. 
That advance means business ! ” 

In fact, they did go through. At the 
very foot of the dike a single volley flashed 
forth along the whole line, momentarily 
clearing the top of the barrier. The next 
instant the dike was covered with scarlet 
figures. Along its crest there was a brief 
struggle, hand to hand, and then the 
braves of Le Loutre were seen fleeing 
through the smoke. 

The Missaguash is a stream with as 
many windings as the storied Meander, 
and about half a mile beyond the lines 
which the English had just carried the 
contortions of the channel brought an- 
other and almost parallel ridge of dike. 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 5 1 

Over this the flying rout of Micmacs and 
Acadians clambered with alacrity, while 
the English forces halted where they 
found themselves. 

To the little knot of watchers on the 
knoll the contest had seemed too brief, the 
defeat of their people most inglorious. 

“ As a fighting man monsieur the abbe 
makes rather a poor show, however good 
he may be at burning peoples houses!’' 
exclaimed Pierre, in a voice that trembled 
with a mixture of enthusiasm for the 
cause, and scorn for him who had it in 
charge. 

“You will find, my son,” said Lecor- 
beau, sententiously, “that the cruel and 
pitiless are often without real courage ! ” 

“O!” laughed the old sergeant, “I’ll 
wager my boots that His Reverence is 
not in the fight at all. It’s likely one of 
his understrappers. Father Germain, per- 
haps, or that cutthroat half-breed, Etienne 
Le Batard, or Father Laberne, or the big 
Chief Cope himself, is leading the fight 
and carrying out the saintly abbe’s orders.” 


52 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijJOUR. 

“ Fools ! Fools and revilers !” exclaimed 
a deep and cutting voice behind them ; 
and turning with a start they saw the 
dreaded Le Loutre standing in their midst. 
Lecorbeau and Pierre became pale with 
apprehension and superstitious awe, while 
the old sergeant laughed awkwardly, 
abashed though not dismayed. 

The abbess sallow face worked with 
anger, and for a moment his narrow eyes 
blazed upon Lecorbeau and seemed to 
read his very soul. Then, as he glanced 
across the marsh, his countenance changed. 
A fanatic zeal illumined it, taking away 
half its repulsiveness. 

“Nay!” he cried, “I am not there in 
the battle. France and the Church need 
me, and what am I that I should risk, to 
be thought bold, a life that I must rather 
hold sacred. Should a chance ball strike 
me down which of you traitors and self- 
seekers is there that could do my work ? 
Which of you could 2:overn my fierce 
flock.?” 

To this tirade, which showed them their 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 


53 

tormentor in a new light, Pierre and his 
father could say nothing. Wondering, 
but not believing, they exchanged stolen 
glances. It is probable that the abbe, in 
his present mood, was sincere ; for in a 
fanatic one must allow for the wildest in- 
consistencies. The old sergeant, more 
skeptical than the Acadians, was, at the 
same time more polite. He hastened to 
murmur, apologetically : 

“ Pardon me, Reverend Father! I see 
that I misunderstood you ! 

Le Loutre made no answer, for now 
events on the battlefield were enchaining 
every eye. 

Behind the second line of dikes the 
Micmacs and Acadians had again in- 
trenched themselves. Major Lawrence, 
perceiving this, at once ordered another 
charge. Then the Indians resolved on a 
bold and perilous stroke. 

The right of their position was nearest 
the attacking force. At this point, acting 
under a sudden inspiration, they began to 
cut the dike. Almost instantly a breach 


54 the raid from beaus^ijour. 

began to appear, under the attack of a 
dozen diking spades wielded with fever- 
ish energy. 

An involuntary cry of consternation 
went up from the group of Acadians on 
the knoll, but the grim abbe shouted, 
“ Well done ! Well done ! my brave, my 
true Laberne ! ” And he rushed from his 
hiding place on some new errand, leaving 
the air lighter for his absence. 

The English detected at once the ma- 
neuver of their opponents. They broke 
into a fierce rush, determined to stop the 
work of destruction before it should be 
too late. From his left Major Lawrence 
threw out a few skilled marksmen, who 
concentrated a telling fire upon the dig- 
gers, delaying but not putting an end to 
the furious energy of their efforts. Already 
a stream of turbid water was stealing 
through. Presently it gathered force and 
volume, spreading out swiftly across the 
marsh, and at the same time the crest of 
the dike was fringed with smoke and the 
pale flashes of the muskets. 


FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 55 

The tide was now on the ebb, and a 
current set strongly against the point of 
dike where the diggers were at work. 
This fact tended to make the results of 
their work the more immediately appar- 
ent, rendering mighty assistance to every 
stroke of the spade. At the same time, 
however, it told heavily in favor of the 
English, for, in order to counteract the 
special stream, the dike at this point was 
of great additional strength. Moreover, 
in the tidal rivers of that region the ebb 
and flow are so vast and so swift, that the 
English hoped the tide would be below a 
dangerous level before the destruction of 
the dike could be accomplished. 

In this hope they were right. Ere they 
had more than half crossed the stretch of 
marsh the waters of the Missaguash were 
oozing about their ankles. But as they 
neared the dike it had grown no deeper. 
They saw the diggers throw down their 
spades, pick up their muskets, and fall in 
with their comrades behind the dike. The 
fire from the top of the barrier ceased. 


56 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

and in silence, with loaded weapons, the 
Indians awaited the assault. From this 
it was plain to Major Lawrence that the 
defense was in the hands of a European. 
He straightened out his lines before the 
charge. 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 


57 


CHAPTER IV. 

Preparing for the Raid. 

'"T^HANK heaven!” ejaculated An- 
toine Lecorbeau, “they have saved 
the dike 1 ” 

In Acadian eyes to tamper with the 
dikes was sacrilege. 

“ Well!” said the sergeant, with a some- 
what cynical chuckle; “ at least the Eng- 
lish have got their feet wet ! ” 

Pierre broke off his laugh in the middle, 
for at this moment the red lines charged. 
The deadly volley which rang out along 
the summit for an instant staggered the 
assailants ; but they rallied and went over 
the barrier like a scarlet wave. The dike 
was much easier to scale when thus ap- 
proached on the landward side. 

And now ensued a fierce hand-to-hand 
struggle. The spectators could hardly 
contain their excitement as they saw their 
party, fighting doggedly, forced back step 
by step to the edge of the water. Some, 


58 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

slipping in the ooze of the retreating tide, 
fell and were carried down by the current. 
These soon swam ashore — discreetly land- 
ing on the further side of the river. The 
rest seeing the struggle hopeless, now 
broke and fled with a celerity that the Eng- 
lish could not hope to rival. Along the 
flats, for perhaps a mile, a detachment of 
the English pursued them till a bugle 
sounded their recall. Then Major Law- 
rence, finding himself master of the field, 
directed his march to that low hill where 
he had encamped the previous spring, 
and a fatigue party was set to repair the 
dike. 

On this hill the English proceeded to 
erect a fortified post, which they called 
Fort Lawrence; and in an incredibly 
short time the red flag was waving from 
its battlements, not three miles distant 
from Beausejour, and an abiding provoca- 
tion to the hot-headed soldiery of France. 
As for Le Loutre, after his disastrous re- 
pulse, he yielded to the inevitable, and 
gave up all thought of preventing the 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 59 

establishment of Fort Lawrence. But 
he was not discouraged ; he was merely 
changing his tactics. 

The Missaguash being the dividing 
line between the two powers, he caused 
his Acadian and Indian followers to en- 
rage the English by petty depredations, 
by violations of the frontier, by attacks 
and ambuscades. Soon the English were 
provoked into retaliations ; whereupon 
the regulars of Beausejour found an 
excuse for taking part, and the turbid 
Missaguash became the scene of such 
perpetual skirmishes that its waters ran 
redder than ever. 

Even then there might have been ere- 
long an attempt at reconciliation, to which 
end the efforts of Captain Howe were 
ceaselessly directed. But Le Loutre 
made this forever impossible by an out- 
rage so fiendish as to call forth the ex- 
ecration of even his unscrupulous em- 
ployers. One morning the sentries on 
Fort Lawrence were somewhat surprised 
to see one who was apparently an officer 


6o THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

from the garrison of Beausejour, with 
several followers, approaching the banks 
of the Missaguash with a flag of truce. 
The party reached the dike, and the 
bearer of the flag waved it as if desiring 
to hold a parley. His followers remained 
behind at a respectful distance, standing 
knee-deep in the heavy aftermath of the 
fertile marsh. 

In prompt response to this advance 
Captain Howe and several companions, 
under a white flag, set out from Fort Law- 
rence to see what was wanted. When 
Howe reached the river he detected some- 
thing in the supposed officer’s dress and 
language which excited his suspicions of 
the man’s good faith, and he turned 
away as if to retrace his steps. Instantly 
there flashed out a volley of musketry 
from behind the dike on the further shore, 
and the beloved young captain fell mor- 
tally wounded. The pretended officer 
was one of Le Loutre’s supporters, the 
Micmac chief, Jean Baptiste Cope, and 
the fatal volley came from a band of Mic- 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 


6i 


macs who had, under cover of darkness, 
concealed themselves behind the dike. 

The assassins kept up a sharp fire on 
the rest of the English party, but failed to 
prevent them from carrying off their dy- 
ing captain to the fort. The scene had 
been witnessed with horror by the French 
forces on Beausejour, and their officers 
sent to Fort Lawrence to express their 
angry reprobation of the atrocious deed. 
They openly laid it to the charge of Le 
Loutre, declaring that such a man was 
capable of anything ; and for a few weeks 
Le Loutre did not care to show himself at 
Beausejour. At last he came, and met 
the accusations of the French officers with 
the most solemn declaration that the 
whole thing had been done without his 
knowledge or sanction. The Indians, he 
swore, had done it by reason of their mis- 
guided but fervent religious zeal, to take 
vengeance on Howe for something he was 
reported to have said injurious and disre- 
spectful to the Church. “ The zeal of my 
flock,’' said he, solemnly, “ is, perhaps, 


62 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

something too rash, but it springs from 
ardent and simple natures ! ” 

“ Aye ! aye ! ” said the old sergeant to 
his companions-in-arms, when he heard of 
the abbe’s explanations, “ but I happened 
to recognize His Reverence myself in the 
party that did the murder.” 

There were many more on Beausejour 
whose eyes had revealed to them the same 
truth as that so bluntly stated by the ser- 
geant. But the abbe was most useful — 
was, in fact, necessary, to do those deeds 
which no one else would stoop to ; and, 
therefore, his explanation was accepted. 
At this time, moreover, there was a work 
to be done at Beausejour requiring the 
assistance of the abbe’s methods. Or- 
ders had been sent from Quebec that a 
strong fort should straightway be built 
at Beausejour, as an offset to Fort Law- 
rence. And this fort was to be built by 
the ill-fated Acadians. 

The labor of the Acadians was sup- 
posed to be voluntary. That is, they 
were invited to assist, without pay other 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID, 63 

than daily rations ; and those who ap- 
peared reluctant were presently inter- 
viewed by the indefatigable and invaluable 
Le Loutre. His persuasions, with blood- 
thirsty Indians in the background, invari- 
ably produced their effect. To be sure, 
there was money sent from Quebec for 
payment of the laborers ; but the author- 
ities of Beausejour having Le Loutre to 
depend upon, found it more satisfactory 
to put this money in their own pockets. 

With his customary foresight, Antoine 
Lecorbeau had promptly evinced his 
willingness to take part in the building. 
Either he or Pierre was continually to be 
found upon the spot, working diligently 
and without complaint — which was a dis- 
appointment to Le Loutre. The abbe 
had not forgotten the remark of Antoine 
which he had caught the day of the bat- 
tle on the Missaguash. He was seeking 
his opportunity to punish him for the 
rash utterance. For the present, how- 
ever, there was nothing to do but com- 
mend the prudent Acadian for his zeal. 


64 the raid from BEAUSilJOUR. 

Upon Pierre and his father this fort 
building fell not heavily. They had a tight 
roof and a warm hearth close by. But 
their hearts ached to see hundreds of their 
fellow-countrymen toiling half-clad in the 
bitter weather, with no reward but their 
meager daily bread. These poor peasants 
had many of them been the owners of 
happy homes, whence the merciless fiat 
of Le Loutre had banished them. The 
hill of Beausejour lies open to the four 
winds of heaven, one or the other of which 
is pretty sure to be blowing at all sea- 
sons ; and some of the dispirited toilers 
had not even rawhide moccasins to pro- 
tect their feet from the biting frost. Le 
Loutre was continually among them 
working in his shirt sleeves, and urging 
everyone to his utmost exertions. But 
as the winter dragged on the Acadians 
became so weak and heartless that even 
the threats of the abbe lost their effect, 
and the fort grew but slowly. Upon this 
it became necessary to increase the rations 
and even to give a small weekly wage. The 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 65 

effect of this was magical, and in the fot 
lowing spring the fortress of Beausejour 
was ready for its garrison. Its strong 
earthworks overlooked the whole sur- 
rounding country, and in the eyes that 
watched it from Fort Lawrence formed 
no agreeable addition to the landscape. 
Across the tawny Missaguash and the 
stretches of bright green marsh the red 
flag and the white flapped each other a 
ceaseless defiance. 

Elated at the completion of the fort, 
Le Loutre concluded the times were ripe 
for a raid upon the English settlements. 
On the banks of the Kenneticook there 
was a tiny settlement which had been an 
eyesore to the abbe ever since its estab- 
lishment some three years before. There 
were only a half dozen houses in the col- 
ony, and against these Le Loutre decided 
to strike. In the enterprise he saw an 
opportunity of making Lecorbeau feel 
his power. He would make the careful 
Acadian take part in the expedition. To 
assume the disguise of an Indian would, 
5 


66 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

he well knew, be hateful to every instinct 
of the law-abiding Lecorbeau. As the 
abbe took his way to the Acadian s rude 
cabin his grim face wore a sinister gleam. 

It was about sunset, and the family 
were at their frugal meal. All rose to 
their feet as the dreaded visitor entered, 
and the children betook themselves in 
terror to the darkest corners they could 
find. The abbe sat down by the hearth 
and motioned his hosts to follow his ex- 
ample. After a word or two of inquiry 
as to the welfare of the household, he re- 
marked abruptly : 

“You are a true man, Antoine — a 
faithful servant of the Holy Church and 
of France ! ” 

His keen eyes, as he spoke, burned 
upon the dark face of the Acadian. 

Lecorbeau did not flinch. He returned 
the piercing gaze calmly and respectfully, 
saying : 

“ Have I not proved it. Reverend 
Father } ” 

A phantom of a smile went over the 


PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 67 

priest’s thin lips, leaving his eyes unlight- 
ened. 

“ It is well ! You shall have yet an- 
other chance to prove it. It is just such 
men as you whose help I want in my next 
venture. I have business on hand which 
my faithful flock at Cobequid are not suf- 
ficient for, unaided. You and certain 
others whom I need not name shall join 
them for a little. I will bring you such 
dress, equipment, and so forth, as you 
will need to become as one of them. Be 
ready to-morrow night.” 

As he spoke he studied intently the 
face of Lecorbeau. But the sagacious 
Acadian was a match for him. Lecor- 
beau’s heart sank in his breast. He was 
a prey to the most violent feeling of hatred 
toward his guest, and of loathing for the 
task required of him. He saw in it, also, 
the probability of his own ruin, for he 
believed the complete triumph of the 
English was at hand. Notwithstanding, 
his face remained perfectly untroubled, 
while Pierre flushed hotly, clenching his 


68 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiEJOUR. 

hands, and Mother Lecorbeau let a sharp 
cry escape her. 

“ Be not a child, Jeanne !” said Lecor- 
beau, rebuking her with his glance. Then 
he answered to the demand of Le Loutre. 

“In truth. Reverend Abbe, I should 
like to prove my zeal in some easier 
way. Have I not obeyed you with all 
diligence and cheerfulness, nor com- 
plained when your wisdom seemed hard 
to many 7 Surely, you will keep such 
harassing service for younger men, men 
who have not a family to care for! Will 
you not deal a little gently with an old 
and obedient servant 7 I pray you, let 
young men go on such enterprises, and 
let me serve you at home ! ” 

“ I am too lenient to such as you,” cried 
the priest, in a voice grown suddenly 
high and terrible. “ I know you. I have 
long suspected you. Your heart is with 
the English. You shall steep your hands 
in the blood of those accursed, or I will 
make you and yours as if you had never 
been!” 



<“ OUR HEARTS ARE WITH THE ENGLISH ! WE ARE 

THE CHILDREN OF FRANCE ! ’ ” 









PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 69 

Antoine Lecorbeau held his counte- 
nance unmoved and bowed his head. “ It 
shall be as you will, father,” he said, 
quietly. “ But is this the way you reward 
obedience } ” 

The abbe’s reply was interrupted by 
Pierre, who stepped forward with flash- 
ing eyes and almost shouted : 

“ Our hearts are not with the English ! 
We are the children of France!” 

The abbe, strange to say, seemed not 
offended by this hot contradiction. The 
outburst rather pleased him. He thought 
he saw in Pierre the making of an effective 
partisan. Diverted by this thought, and 
feeling sure of Antoine after the threat 
he had uttered, he rose abruptly, blessed 
the household, all unconscious of the 
irony of the act, and stepped out into the 
raw evening. There was silence in the 
cabin for some minutes after his going 
forth. The blow had fallen, even that 
which Lecorbeau had most dreaded. 


JO THE RAID FROM BEAUS:^JOUR. 


CHAPTER V. 

The Midnight March. 

HE children crept forth from their 



corners and looked wonderingly at 
their sobbing mother. 

“O, you will certainly be killed/’ 
wailed the good woman, thoroughly 
frightened. 

“ There is little danger of that]' re- 
joined Lecorbeau. “The abbe prefers to 
strike where there is small likelihood of 
a return blow. There will be as little of 
peril as there will be of glory in attack- 
ing a few sleeping villagers and perhaps 
murdering them in their beds. The 
thought of such cold-blooded butchery is 
terrible, but anything is better than that 
you and the little ones should be ex- 
posed to the rage of those savages. It 
may mean ruin for us, however, for the 
English governor at Halifax is likely to 
hear of me being concerned in the raid ; 
and, you remember, I was one of those 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 

that took the oath when I was a lad. I 
shall be an outlaw, that’s all ! ” 

Reassured as to the immediate phys- 
ical peril of the enterprise, the good wife 
dried her eyes. The scruples that 
troubled her husband were too remote 
to give her much concern. 

“Well, if you must go,” said she, “I 
suppose you must ! Do try and please 
that hard-hearted priest ; and you must 
put on warm clothes, for you’ll be sleep- 
ing out at night, won’t you ? ” 

“But, father!” began Pierre — and then 
he stopped suddenly. “ I wonder if I 
foddered the steers,” he went on. As 
he spoke he rose from the bench where- 
on he was sitting, and went out to the 
barn. 

Pierre had been on the point of saying 
that he was the one to go on the raid, as 
he had not taken any oath of allegiance 
to the English. It had occurred to him, 
however, that his father would probably 
forbid him thinking of such a thing, and 
he knew that in such a case he would be 


72 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JJOUR. 

unable to put his plan in execution, as 
he had not learned in that simple neigh- 
borhood the lesson of disobedience to 
parents. He saw that if he went on the 
raid the requirements of Le Loutre were 
likely to be satisfied, while at the same 
time his father would be delivered from 
the danger of an accusation of treason. 
It was quite certain in Pierre’s mind 
that his design would commend itself to 
the clear wisdom of his father, but he 
felt that the latter would forbid it be- 
cause of his mother’s terrors. He de- 
cided to act at once, and he turned his 
steps toward the fort. Certain misgiv- 
ings troubled his conscience at first, but 
he soon became convinced that he was 
doing right. 

While good wife Lecorbeau was won- 
dering what kept Pierre so long at the 
barn, Pierre was at the commandant’s 
quarters talking to the abbe. The 
latter greeted the boy kindly, and asked 
at once what brought him. 

“ I came to speak about to-morrow 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 73 

night, Reverend Father ! ” began the boy, 
doubtfully. 

“ Well, what of it 7 ” snarled the priest, 
in a harsh voice, his brow darkening 
“Your father isn’t trying to beg off, is 
he ? ” 

“ O, no, no !” Pierre hastened to reply. 
“ He’s getting ready, and he doesn’t know 
I’ve come to see you. He’d have for- 
bidden me had he known, so I stole 
away. But I want to go instead of him. 
See, I’m young and strong ; and I love 
fighting, while he loves peace ; and he 
has pains in his joints, and would, may- 
be, get laid up on the march, whereas I 
can be of more use to the cause. Be- 
sides, he can be of more use to the cause 
by staying home, which I can’t be. Take 
me instead — ! ” 

Pierre broke off abruptly, breathless in 
his eagerness. For a moment his hopes 
died within him, for the abbe’s face re- 
mained dark and severe. That active 
brain reviewed the situation rapidly, and 
at length approved the proposal of 


74 the raid from beausejour. 

Pierre. It was obvious that Pierre, 
ardent and impetuous, would be more 
effective than Antoine in such a venture ; 
and it occurred to Le Loutre that in 
taking the boy he was inflicting a 
sharper punishment upon the father. 

“You are a right brave youth,” he 
said, presently, “ and it shall be as you 
ask. You shall see that I do well by 
those that are faithful. As for the trait- 
ors, let them beware, for my arm is 
longer than they dream. I reach to 
Annapolis and Fort St. John and Louis- 
burg as easily as to Minas or Mem- 
ramcook.” Here the abbe paused and 
was turning away. Looking back over 
his shoulder he added, but in a low 
voice : 

“ Come hither at dusk to-morrow. I 
will send a messenger to your father in 
the morning, saying that I release him 
from the expedition. See that you say 
nought to him, or to any living soul, of 
that which is to be done ! ” 

When Pierre returned to the cabin 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 75 

his mother began to question him. He 
answered simply that he had to go up to 
the fort. “ What for ? ” inquired his 
mother persistently. But Lecorbeau in- 
terposed. 

“ Pierre is as tall as his father,” he 
said, smiling at the youth. “ See how 
broad his shoulders are. Is he not old 
enough, anxious mother, to be out alone 
after dark 7 ” 

The good woman, assenting, gazed at 
her son proudly. And Pierre felt a 
pang at the thought of what his mother’s 
grief would be on learning that he had 
gone on the abbe’s expedition. His heart 
smote him bitterly to think he should 
have to leave without a word of explana- 
tion or farewell ; but he knew that if his 
mother should get so much as a hint of 
his undertaking, her fears would ruin all. 
He crept to his bed, but lay tossing for 
hours, wide-eyed in the dark, before 
sleep put an end to the wearying con- 
flict of his thoughts. 

The following morning brought unex- 


76 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:6jOUR. 

pected joy to the cabin at the foot of 
Beausejour. Antoine Lecorbeau could 
hardly believe his ears when a mes- 
senger came to tell him that the abbe, in 
consideration of faithful services already 
rendered, would release him from the 
duty required of him. A load rolled off 
the Acadian’s prudent soul, though he 
remained in a state of anxious per- 
plexity. Had he known our Shake- 
speare he would have said, in the strict 
privacy of his inward meditations, “ I 
like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.” 
But as for his good wife, she was radiant, 
and reproached herself volubly for the 
evil thought she had harbored against 
the good abbe. Pierre himself, seeing 
that Le Loutre was sticking to his 
promise, found a good word to say for 
him, for the first time that he could re- 
member. 

That same evening, supper being over 
about dusk, Pierre said he would go up 
to the fort and see the old sergeant. As 
he got to the cabin door he turned and 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 77 

threw a kiss to the dear ones he was 
leaving. Had the light been stronger 
his mother could not but have noticed 
his set mouth and the moisture in his 
eyes. He dared not trust himself to 
speak. 

“ Bring us back what news you can of 
the expedition, lad!” cried Lecorbeau 
after him ; and it was with a mighty 
effort that Pierre strained his voice to 
answer “ All right ! ” 

At the fort everything was very quiet. 
Le Loutre was at the commandant’s 
quarters with a half dozen befeathered 
and bepainted braves, in each of whom 
Pierre presently recognized a fellow- 
Acadian skillfully disguised. In fact, 
there was not an Indian among them. 
The real Indians were awaiting their 
leader and spiritual father in the woods 
beyond Fort Lawrence. 

Pierre was warmly greeted by his 
fellow-villagers, all of whom had evi- 
dently worked themselves up into some- 
thing like enthusiasm for their under- 


78 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

taking. Of the regular French soldiery 
there were none about. Not even a 
sentry was to be seen. The command- 
ant was on hand, helping to complete 
the disguises of the Acadians, and he 
did not choose that any of his men 
should be able to say they had seen 
him give personal countenance to a 
violation of the treaty. 

The commandant was very well dis- 
posed to the family of Antoine Lecor- 
beau, from whom he bought farm prod- 
uce at ridiculously low terms, to sell it 
again in Louisburg at a profit of one 
or two hundred per cent. He spoke 
good humoredly to Pierre, and even 
helped him with his paint and feathers. 
Unscrupulous and heartless where his 
own interests were at stake, in small 
matters he was rather amiable than 
otherwise. 

“Won’t your father and mother be 
terribly anxious about you, when you 
fail to put in an appearance to-night ? 
The good abbe tells me they are not to 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 79 

know of your whereabouts ! ’’ said the 
officer to Pierre, in a low voice. 

“ What, sir ! cried Pierre, aghast at 
the thought. “Won’t they be told where 
Pve gone ? ” 

“ H is Reverence says not,” replied the of- 
ficer. “His Reverence is very considerate!” 

Pierre was almost beside himself He 
knew not what to do. His hands 
dropped to his side, and he could only 
look imploringly at the commandant. 

“Well, well, lad!” continued the lat- 
ter, presently, “/’// let them know as 
soon as the expedition is safely out of 
this. This priest is quite too merciless 
for me. Pll explain the whole thing to 
your father and mother, and will assure 
them that there’s no danger ; as, in- 
deed, is the truth, for it is pretty safe 
and easy work to shoot a man when he’s 
not more than half awake. Now, be 
easy in your mind, and leave the hard 
work and any little fighting there may 
be to those red heathens that His Rev- 
erence talks so much about.” 


8o THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 

With these words, which relieved 
Pierres mind, the commandant turned 
away, and left the youth to perfect his 
transformation into a Micmac brave. 

It was drawing toward midnight when 
the abbe’s imitation Micmacs, after a 
hearty supper of meat, took their way 
from Beausejour. They saw no sentry 
as they stole forth. Le Loutre was with 
them, and himself led the way. The night 
was raw and gusty, with rain threatening. 
As they descended the hill they could 
hear the stream of the Missaguash 
brawling over the stones of the mid- 
channel, for the tide was out. Across 
the solitary marshes could be seen the 
lights of Fort Lawrence gleaming from 
their hilltop.. Overhead was the weird 
cry of flocks of wild geese voyaging 
north. The gusts made Pierre draw his 
blanket closer about him, and the 
strangeness of his surroundings, with 
the dreadful character of the venture on 
which he was bound, filled his soul with 
awe. He was determined, however, to 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 


produce a good impression on the 
dreaded abbe. He stalked on with a 
long, energetic stride, keeping well to the 
front and maintaining a stoical silence. 

Le Loutre led the way far up the Mis- 
saguash, so giving Fort Lawrence a wide 
berth. Once beyond the fort he turned 
south, skirting the further edge of what 
had been peaceful Beaubassin. At this 
point he led his party into the woods, 
and for perhaps half an hour the jour- 
ney was most painful and exhausting. 
Pierre was running against trees and 
stumbling over branches, and at the 
same time, in spite of his discomfort and 
the novelty of the situation, growing 
more and more sleepy. The journey 
began to seem to him like a dismal 
nightmare, from which he would soon 
awaken to find himself in his narrow 
but cosy bunk at home. 

Suddenly he was startled by the half- 
human cry of the panther, which sounded 
as if in the treetops right overhead. 
“ Is that a signal } ” inquired one of the 
6 


82 THE RAID FROM BEAUSlfejOUR. 

Startled travelers, while Pierre drew 
closer to his nearest comrade. 

“ It’s a signal that Monsieur Loup 
Cervier wants his supper, and would be 
quite willing to make it off a fat Acad- 
ian ! ” replied the abbe with a grim 
laugh. 

The party upon this began to talk and 
laugh aloud, which probably daunted the 
animal, for nothing more was heard of 
him. In the course of another ten min- 
utes a light was seen glowing through 
the trees, and immediately the abbe 
hooted thrice, imitating perfectly the 
note of the little Acadian owl. This 
signal was answered from the neighbor- 
hood of the fire, whereupon the abbe 
gave the strange, resonant cry of the 
bittern. A few moments more and 
Pierre found himself by a camp fire 
which blazed cheerfully in the recess of a 
sheltered ravine. Around the fire were 
gathered some twoscore of Micmacs in 
their war dress, who merely grunted as 
the abbe and his little party joined them. 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 83 

Here, wrapped in his blanket, his feet 
to the fire and his head on an armful of 
hemlock boughs, Pierre slept as sweet a 
sleep as if in his bed at home. At dawn 
he woke with a start, just as the abbe 
drew near to arouse him. Fora moment 
he was bewildered ; then gathering his 
wits he sprang quickly to his feet, look- 
ing ready for an instant departure. Le 
Loutre was content and turned away. 
Not many minutes were consumed in 
breakfasting, and the raiders were under 
way by the time the sun was up. 

All that day the stealthy band crept 
on, avoiding the trails by which commu- 
nication was kept up between the settle- 
ments. Early in the evening Le Loutre 
called a halt, and Pierre, exhausted, fell 
asleep the moment he had satisfied his 
hunger. Next morning the sun was high 
ere the party resumed its march, and not 
long after midday Le Loutre declared 
they had gone far enough as they were 
now near the settlement of Kenneti- 
cook. There was now nothing to be 


84 the raid from beaus^jour. 

done but wait for night. A scout was 
sent forward to reconnoiter, and came 
back in a couple of hours with word that 
all was quiet in the little village, and no 
danger suspected. 

About nine o’clock the abbe gave his 
orders. Not a soul in the village was to 
be spared, and not a house left standing. 
The enemy were to be destroyed, root 
and branch, and the English were to re- 
ceive a lesson that would drive them in 
terror within the shelter of the Halifax 
stockades. In a few minutes the party 
was on the march, and moving now with 
the greatest secrecy and care. 

During that silent march, every mi- 
nutest detail of which stamped itself in- 
delibly on Pierre’s memory, the lad clung 
desperately to the thought of all the in- 
juries, real or pretended, which the Eng- 
lish had inflicted upon his people. He 
dared not let himself think of the un- 
offending settlers trustfully sleeping in 
their homes. He strove to work himself 
up to some sort of martial ardor that 


THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 


85 


might prevent him feeling like an assas- 
sin. Presently the rippling of the Ken- 
neticook made itself heard on the quiet 
night, and then the dim outlines of the 
lonely and doomed hamlet rose into 
view. 


86 THE RAID FROM BEAUSljOUR. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The Surprise. 

HE midnight murderers were at the 



very doors before even a dog gave 
warning. Then several curs raised a 
shrill alarm, and a great mastiff, chained 
to his kennel in the yard of the largest 
house, snapped his chain and sprang upon 
the raiders. The dog bore an Indian to 
the ground, and then fell dead, with a 
tomahawk buried in his skull. At the 
same moment the long, strident yell of 
the Micmacs rang through the hamlet, 
and a half dozen hatchets beat in every 
door. There was no time for resistance. 
The butchers were at the bedsides of 
their victims almost ere the latter were 
awake. Here and there a settler found 
time to snatch his rifle, or a andiron^ 
or a heavy chair, and so to make a des- 
perate though brief defense ; and in this 
way three Micmacs and one Acadian 
were killed. The yells of the raiders 


THE SURPRISE. 


87 

were mingled with the shrieks of the 
victims, and almost instantly the scene 
of horror was lighted up by the flames of 
the burning ricks. 

Pierre, with rather a vague idea of 
what he was going to do, had rushed to 
the attack among the foremost, and had 
plunged headlong over the body of the 
dead mastiff. In the fall he dropped his 
rifle, but clung to his hatchet, and in a 
moment he found himself in the hallway 
of the chief house. H is perception of what 
took place was confused. He felt him- 
self carried up the stairs with a rush. A 
faint light was glimmering into existence 
in the large room, in the middle of which 
he saw a man standing rifle in hand. 
There Avas a deafening report, and every- 
thing was wrapped in a cloud of smoke. 
Then a sudden glare filled the room as 
a barn outside blazed to heaven ; and 
the man, clubbing his rifle, sprang at his 
assailants. Pierre did not wait to see his 
fate, but darted past him into a room be- 
yond. 


88 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:6jOUR. 

This was plainly the children’s bed- 
room. Pierre’s eye fell on a small, yel- 
low-haired child, who was sitting up 
amid her bedclothes, her round eyes 
wild with terror. She shrieked at the 
sight of Pierre’s painted visage, but the 
lad’s heart went out to her with passion- 
ate pity as he thought of the little folk 
at home. He would save her at all 
hazards. He was followed into the room 
by three or four of the fiercest of his 
party. Pierre sprang with a yell upon 
the child’s bed, throwing her upon her 
face with one hand while he buried his 
hatchet in the pillows where she had 
lain. In an instant the little one was 
hidden under a heap of bedclothes, and 
too frightened to make an outcry. Some- 
where in the room the butchers had 
evidently found another victim in hid- 
ing, for their triumphant yell was fol- 
lowed by a gasping groan, which smote 
Pierre to the heart, and filled him with 
an avenging fury. 

A cloud of smoke blown past the 


THE SURPRISE. 


89 

window, for a moment darkened the 
room. An Indian ran against Pierre 
and grunted, “Ugh! All gone.^” 

“ All gone 1 ” replied the lad, and he 
saw the murderers glide forth to seek 
their prey. But one remained, delaying 
to remove a victim’s scalp. The room 
again became bright, and as the Indian 
passed Pierre his quick eye caught a 
motion in the heap of bedclothes. His 
eyes gleamed, and he jerked the cover- 
ings aside. Pierre thrust him back 
violently and angrily, just as the child 
sat up with a shrill cry. The savage 
hesitated, impressed by Pierre’s uncom- 
promising attitude, then turned with a 
grunt to seek satisfaction elsewhere. 

The child was apparently five or six 
years old, but a tiny, fairylike creature. 

“ Sh-sh-sh ! ” said Pierre, soothingly, 
taking it for granted that she would not 
understand French. The child compre- 
hended the sign, and stopped her cries, 
realizing that the strange and dreadful- 
looking being was her protector. Pierre, 


90 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^IJOUR. 

knowing that the house would soon be 
in flames, made haste to wrap the child 
in a thick blanket. He saw that beneath 
the window there was a shed with a 
sloping roof, by which he could easily 
reach the ground. He waited a few 
moments, with the child in his arms, 
covered as much as possible by his 
blanket, and so held as to look like a 
roll of booty. When the smoke once 
more blew in a stifling volume past the 
window, Pierre stepped out upon the 
roof with his precious burden, dropped 
to the ground, and made haste away in 
the direction of the least glare and 
tumult. 

As he was stealing past a small cot- 
tage just burst into blaze, two of the 
raiders stepped in front of him. Pierre ^s 
heart sank, but he grasped his hatchet, 
and a sort of hunted but deadly look 
gleamed in his eyes. The men didn’t 
offer to stop him, but one cried : 

“ What have you there ? ” 

As he spoke Pierre recognized them 


THE SURPRISE. 9 1 

for two of the Acadians, and his fears 
ceased. 

“ Its a child I’m saving,” he whispered. 
“ Don’t say anything about it.” 

“ Good boy ! ” chuckled the singular 
marauders ; and Pierre hastened on, 
making for a wood near by. 

Ere he could reach that shelter, how- 
ever, Fate once more confronted him 
in the shape of a tall Micmac, whom 
Pierre recognized as one of the subchiefs 
of the tribe, a nephew of Cope. The 
chief, supposing Pierre was carrying off* 
something very rich in the way of booty, 
stopped him and demanded a share. 
Pierre protested, declaring it was all his. 
When he spoke the savage recognized 
him, and having a lofty contempt for one 
who was both an Acadian and a mere 
boy, coolly attempted to snatch the 
bundle from his arms. 

Pierre’s eyes blazed, as he grasped the 
Indian’s wrist and wrenched the cruel 
grip loose. He looked the savage 
straight in the eye, 


92 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijJOUR. 

“ That’s mine / ” said he steadily 
“ Keep your hands off ! ” 

The Indian snatched again at the 
bundle, this time ineffectually ; and then 
he drew his knife as if to attack Pierre. 
The latter jumped back, laid his burden 
on the ground, and stood before it, hatchet 
in hand. Seeing he was not to be in- 
timidated, and willing to avoid a hand- 
to-hand struggle with one who seemed so 
ready for it, the savage withdrew grum- 
bling, at the same time resolving that he 
would force Pierre later on to divide his 
booty. As soon as he was gone Pierre 
snatched up his charge and sped away 
exultant. 

The boy’s design was to follow the 
Kenneticook to its mouth, and thence to 
ascend the Plziquid to the Acadian set- 
tlement, which he knew stood some- 
where on its banks. He did not dare to 
try and find his way back to Beausejour. 
He knew that If he followed the trail of 
his party he would be captured and the 
child killed ; and he was equally certain 


THE SURPRISE. 


93 


that if he deserted the trail he should be 
lost inevitably. Once at Piziquid, how- 
ever, he counted on getting a fisherman 
to take him to Beausejour by water. 

After toiling through the woods for 
perhaps an hour, keeping ever within 
hearing of the stream, Pierre set his 
burden on the ground and threw himself 
down beside her to snatch a moment's 
rest. The little one was in her bare 
feet, so it was impossible for her to walk 
in that rough and difficult region. In- 
deed, she had nothing on but a woolen 
nightdress, and Pierre had to keep her 
well wrapped up in the blanket he had 
brought from her bed. The little one 
had been contentedly sleeping in her 
deliverer’s arms, all unconscious of the 
awful fate that had befallen those whom 
Pierre supposed to be her people. She 
remained asleep while Pierre was resting, 
nor woke till it was clear dawn. 

Long ere this Pierre had found easier 
traveling, having come out upon a series 
of natural meadows skirting the stream. 


94 the raid from beaus^jour. 

Beyond these meadows were wide flats, 
covered at high tide, and Pierre, with an 
Acadian’s instinct, thought how fine it 
would be to dike them in. He had little 
fear now of being followed. His party 
would take it for granted, not finding 
him or his body, that he had fallen in the 
attack and been burnt in the conflagra- 
tion. He felt that they would not 
greatly trouble themselves. As for 
those four who had seen him with his 
prize, two at least would not tell on him 
and he had strong hopes that the two 
Micmacs whom he had encountered 
would forget his prize in the confusion of 
the hour. Beside a rivulet, in the gray 
of dawn, he stopped to wash himself, that 
his appearance might not frighten the 
child on her awaking. 

When the little one opened her eyes 
she looked about her in astonishment, 
which became delight as she saw the 
glittering brook close beside her and the 
many-colored sky overhead. She crept 
out of her blanket and stood with her 


THE SURPRISE. 


95 


little white feet shining in the short 
spring grass. Then she stepped into 
the brook, but finding it too cold for her 
she came out again at once. Then she 
stood shivering till Pierre, after drying 
her feet on his blanket, once more 
wrapped her up and seated her on a 
fallen tree beside him. The child kept up 
a continual prattle, of which, of course, 
Pierre understood not a word. He 
could only smile and stroke the little 
fair head. When he spoke to her in his 
own language the child gazed at him in 
wide-eyed wonder, and at last laughed 
gleefully and began to pat his face, 
talking a lot of baby gibberish, such as 
she imagined Pierre was addressing to 
her. 

By and by Pierre remembered he 
was hungry. Taking some barley bread 
and dried meat out of the bag he carried 
at his waist, he offered the choicest bits 
to his tiny companion, and the two made 
a good breakfast. Out of a strip of 
birchbark the lad twisted a cup and gave 


g6 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

the child to drink. Then, lifting her to 
his shoulder, he resumed his journey. 

As the sun rose and the day grew 
warm Pierre let the child walk by his 
side ; but the tender little feet were not 
used to such work, and almost imme- 
diately she cried to be taken up again. 
On this Pierre improvised her a clumsy 
pair of moccasins, made of strips of his 
blanket. 

These the little one regarded at first 
with lofty contempt, but when she found 
they enabled her to run by her pro- 
tectors side she was delighted. It was 
necessary to stop often and rest long, so 
our travelers made slow progress ; but 
at noon, climbing a bluff which over- 
looked the river for miles in either direc- 
tion, Pierre was delighted to find himself 
within two or three miles of the mouth. 
He marked, moreover, a short cut by 
which, taking advantage of the curve in 
the main river, he could cut off five or 
six miles and strike the banks of the 
Piziquid without difficulty or risk. 


THE SURPRISE. 


97 


“ By this time to-morrow, if all goes 
well, we’ll be safe in Piziquid, cherie ! ” 
he cried joyously to the child, who re- 
sponded with a mirthful stream of babble. 
Pierre’s conversation she regarded as a 
huge and perpetual joke. 

That night Pierre built a rough leen-to 
under the shelter of a great white plaster- 
rock, and there in a heap of fragrant 
branches, the child wrapped closely in 
the lad’s arms, the lonely pair slept warm 
and secure. The next day was mild and 
our travelers found their path easy. Ere 
noon they arrived within sight of Piz- 
iquid. 

They were on a hill with the Acadian 
village stretched out before them far be- 
low, but a broad river rolling between 
them and their destination. Pierre had 
forgotten about the St. Croix, but he recog- 
nized it now from description. He saw, 
to his disappointment, that he would have 
to make a long detour to pass this ob- 
stacle, so he sat down on the hill to rest 
and refresh his little companion. The 
7 


98 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

little one was now so tired that she fell 
instantly to sleep, and Pierre thought it 
wise to let her sleep a good half hour. 
Even he himself appreciated well the de- 
lay ; and the view that unrolled beneath 
him was magnificent. 

Right ahead, in the corner of land be- 
tween the Piziquid River and the St. Croix, 
rose a rounded hill crowned with the Eng- 
lish post of Fort Edward. Beyond to 
right and left expanded plains of vivid 
emerald, with a line of undulating up- 
lands running back from Fort Edward 
and dividing the marshes of the St. Croix 
from those of the Piziquid. The scene 
was one of plenty and content. Pierre 
concluded that it would be necessary for 
him to avoid being seen by the garrison 
of the fort, lest he should be suspected of 
being one of the raiders. He decided to 
seek one of the outermost houses of the 
settlement about nightfall and there to 
tell his story, relying upon the good faith 
of one Acadian toward another. The 
child, he made up his mind, must stay in 


THE SURPRISE. 


99 


his care and go with him to Beausejour. 
Having risked and suffered so much for 
her, he already began to regard her with 
jealous devotion and to imagine she was 
indeed his own. 

The child woke as joyous as a bird. 
Hand in hand the quaint-looking pair — 
a seeming Indian with a little white- 
skinned child in a flannel nightgown — 
trudged patiently up the stream, till in the 
middle of the afternoon they came to. a 
spot where Pierre thought it safe to wade 
across. By this time the little ones feet 
were so sore that she had to be carried 
all the time ; and it was well after sunset 
when Pierre set his armful down at the 
door of an outlying cottage of Piziquid, 
well away from the surveillance of the 
fort. 

In answer to Pierre’s knock there came 
a woman to the door, who started back 
in alarm. With a laughing salutation, 
however, Pierre followed her into the 
blaze of firelight which poured from the 
heaped-up hearth. In spite of his dis- 

LOFC. 


100 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

guise he was at once recognized by the 
man of the house as an Acadian, and the 
wanderers found an instant and hearty 
welcome. Over a hot supper (in the 
midst of which the tired child fell asleep 
with her head in her plate, and was car- 
ried to bed by the motherly good wife) 
Pierre told all his story. 

“We shall have to keep you hidden 
till we get you away ! ” said the villager, 
one Jean Breboeuf by name. “You see, 
their eyes are open at the fort. They 
got word at Halifax, somehow, that our 
precious abbe (whom may the saints con- 
found !) was planning some deviltry, and 
messages were sent to the different posts 
to guard the outlying settlements. It’s a 
wonder you didn’t find English soldiers 
at Kenneticook, for a company started 
thither. However, if the English catch 
you in this dress they won’t take long de- 
ciding what to do with you.” 

Pierre was greatly alarmed. 

“ Can’t you give me something to 
wear ? ” he cried. 


THE SURPRISE. 


lOl 


“ O, yes ! ** answered the host, “ we’ll 
fix you all right in the morning so no- 
body will ever suspect you. Then I’ll 
get Marin — he’s got a good boat — to 
start right off and sail you round to 
Beausejour. But what about the little 
one?” 

“ O, she goes wherever I go!” said 
Pierre, decidedly. 

“Yes, yes! But she’s got to be kept 
out of sight,” replied Breboeuf. “ She 
looks English, every inch of her ; and if 
the people at the fort get eyes on her 
there’ll be an investigation sure ! ” 

“Can you speak English?” queried 
Pierre. 

“Well enough!” replied his host. 

“ There’ll be no trouble then,” con- 
tinued Pierre. “You can tell her to 
keep quiet and keep covered up when 
we’re taking her to the boat. She’ll 
mind, I’ll answer you. And then, if 
Madame Breboeuf can give her a little 
homespun frock and cap, we’ll pass her 
off all right should anyone see her. And 


102 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

when we get to Beausejour my father 
will make it all right for the clothes.’’ 

“ He won’t do anything of the sort,” 
answered both Breboeuf and his wife in 
one breath. “We all know Antoine 
Lecorbeau, and we’re proud to do his 
son a service. If we poor Acadians 
did not help each other, I’d like to know 
who’d help us, anyway ! ” 

It was with a light heart that Pierre 
slept that night, and joyfully in the 
morning he put away the last trace of 
his hated disguise. His little charge 
showed plainly that she considered the 
change an improvement. The child told 
Breboeuf (whom she understood with 
difficulty) that her name was Edie 
Howe. At this Breboeuf was surprised, 
for, as he said to Pierre, there were no 
Howes at Kenneticook. When the 
Acadian tried to question Edie more 
closely, her answers became irrelevant, 
which was probably due to the deficien- 
cies of Monsieur Breboeuf’s English. 

Pierre kept indoors most of the morn- 


THE SURPRISE. 


103 


ing, as the little one would not let him 
out of her sight, and he dared not be 
seen with her. Soon after noon the tide 
was all ready for a departure, and not 
behindhand was the fisherman, Marin, 
with his stanch Minas craft. Marin 
had brought his boat up the St. Croix 
and into a little creek at some distance 
from the fort, because at the regular 
landing place there were always some 
English soldiers strolling about for lack 
of anything better to do. It was with 
some trepidation that Pierre set out for 
the creek. The little girl walked be- 
tween her dear protector and their host, 
holding a hand of each, and chattering 
about everything she saw, till with great 
effort Breboeuf got her to understand that 
if she didn’t keep quite quiet, and not say 
a word to anybody till they got safely 
away in the boat, something dreadful 
might happen to her Pierre. She was 
dressed like any of the little Acadian 
maidens of Piziquid, and her blue cap of 
quilted linen was so tied on as to hide her 


104 the raid from beausjejour. 

sunny hair and much of her face ; but the 
danger was that she might betray herself 
by her speech. 

Before the party reached the boat 
they had a narrow escape from detection. 
They were met by three or four soldiers 
who were strolling across the marsh. In 
passing they gave Breboeuf a hearty 
good-day in English, and one of them 
called Edie his “ little sweetheart.” The 
child looked up with a laugh, and cried, 
coquettishly, “Not yours! I’m Pierre’s.” 
Then, as Breboeuf squeezed her hand 
sharply, she remembered his caution and 
said no more, though her small heart was 
filled with wonder to think she might 
not talk to the nice soldiers. 

“ Why, where did the baby learn her 
English.?” asked the soldier in a tone 
of surprise. “ You never taught her, I’ll 
be bound.” 

“ Her mother taught her. Her mother 
speaks the English better than you your- 
self,” was Breboeuf’s ready reply. Later 
in the day that soldier suddenly remem- 


THE SURPRISE. IO5 

bered that the good wife Breboeuf did 
not speak a word of English, and he was 
properly mystified. By that time, how- 
ever, Pierre and the little one were far 
from Piziquid. With a merry breeze be- 
hind them they were racing under the 
beetling front of Blomidon. 

On the day following they caught the 
flood tide up Chignecto Bay, and sailed 
into the mouth of the Au Lac stream, 
almost under the willows of Lecorbeau’s 
cottage. The joy of Pierre’s father and 
mother on seeing the lad so soon re- 
turned was mingled with astonishment 
at seeing him arrive by water, and with 
a little English child in his care. The 
little one, with her exciting experiences 
behind her, did not dream of being shy, 
but was made happy at once with a kind 
welcome ; while Pierre, the center of a 
wondering and exclaiming circle, narrated 
the wild adventures of the past few days, 
which had, indeed, developed him all at 
once from boyhood to manhood. As he 
described the massacre, and the manner 


I06 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^iJOUR. 

in which he had rescued the yellow-haired 
lassie, his mother drew the little one into 
her arms and cried over her from sym- 
pathy and excitement ; and the child 
wiped her eyes with her own quilted 
sunbonnet. At the conclusion of the 
vivid narrative Lecorbeau was the first 
to speak. 

“ Nobly have you done, my dear son,” 
he cried, with warm emotion. “ But now, 
where are your companions of that 
dreadful expedition ? Not one has yet 
arrived at Beausejour!” 


Pierre’s little one. 


107 


CHAPTER VII. 


Pierre’s Little One. 



HIS question which Lecorbeau 


asked, all Beausejour was asking in 
an hour or two. That night an Indian, 
sent from Le Loutre, who was lying in 
exhaustion at Cobequid, arrived at the 
fort and told the fate of the expedition. 

As already stated, the English authori- 
ties in Halifax had been warned of the 
movements of the Indians — though they 
could only guess the part that Le Loutre 
had in them. Without delay they had 
sent small bands of troops to each of the 
exposed settlements, but that dispatched 
to Kenneticook arrived, as we have seen, 
too late. When the breathless soldiers, 
lighted through the woods by the glare of 
the burning village, reached the scene of 
ruin, of all who had that night lain down 
to fearless sleep in Kenneticook there re- 
mained alive but one, the little child 
whom Pierre had snatched from death. 


I08 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 

When the English emerged from the 
woods and saw the extent of the disaster, 
they knew they were too late. Not a 
house, not a building of any kind, but 
was already wrapped in a roaring torrent 
of flame, and against the broad illumi- 
nation could be seen the figures of the 
savages, fantastically dancing. The Eng- 
lish captain formed his line with pru- 
dent deliberation, and then led the attack 
at a run. 

Never dreaming of so rude an inter- 
ruption, the raiders were taken utterly 
by surprise and made no effective resist- 
ance. A number fell at the first volley, 
which the English poured in upon them 
in charging. Then followed a hand-to- 
hand fight, fierce but brief, which Le Lou- 
tre didn’t see, as he had wisely retired 
on the instant of the Englishmen’s ar- 
rival. He was followed by two of the 
Acadians, and two or three of the more 
prudent of the Micmacs ; but the rest of 
his party, fired with blind fury by the 
liquor which they had found among the 


PIERRE'S LITTLE ONE. lOQ 

village stores, remained to fight with a 
drunken recklessness and fell to a man 
beneath the steel of the avengers. 

Left masters of the field, the rescue 
party gazed with horror on the ruin they 
had come too late to avert. With a 
grim, poetic justice they cast the bodies 
of their slain foes into the fires which 
had already consumed the victims of 
their ferocity. While this was going on 
the leader of the party, a young lieuten- 
ant, stood apart in deepest dejection. 

“ Whats the matter with the general.^” 
inquired a soldier, pointing with his 
thumb in the direction of his sorrowing 
chief. 

“ Fm afeard as how that little niece of 
his’n, as you’ve seed him a-danderin’ 
many a time in Halifax, was visitin’ folks 
here. If so be what I’ve hearn be true, 
them yellin’ butchers has done for her, 
sure pop. I tell ye. Bill, she was a little 
beauty, an’ darter of the cap’n they mur- 
dered last September down to Fort Law- 


rence. 


no THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

“ I ricklecs the child well,” replied Bill, 
shaking his head slowly. “It was a 
purty one, an’ no mistake ! An’ Cap’n 
Howe’s darter, too. I swan!” 

In a little while the careless-hearted 
soldiers were asleep amid the ashes of 
Kenneticook village, while the young 
lieutenant lay awake, his heart aching 
for his golden-haired pet, his widowed 
sister’s child. The next day he gave 
his men a long rest, for they had done 
some severe forced marching. When 
at length he reached Piziquid he little 
dreamed that the child whose death he 
mourned was at that very moment sail- 
ing down the river bound for Beausejour 
and a long sojourn among her people’s 
enemies. 

In the house of Antoine Lecorbeau 
things went on more pleasantly than with 
most of his fellow-Acadians. With the 
good will of Vergor, the commandant of 
Beausejour, who made enormous profits 
out of the Acadian’s tireless diligence, Le- 
corbeau became once more fairly prosper- 


Pierre’s little one. 


1 1 1 


ous ; and Le Loutre had grown again 
friendly. But most of the Acadians 
found themselves in a truly pitiable plight. 
There were not lands enough to supply 
them all, and they pined for the farms of 
Acadie which Le Loutre had forced them 
to forsake. Threatened with excommu- 
nication and the scalping knife if they 
should return to their allegiance, and with 
starvation if they obeyed the commands 
of their heartless superiors at Quebec, 
they were girt about on all sides with 
pain and peril. Vacillating, unable to 
think boldly for themselves, they were 
doubtless much to blame, but their mis- 
eries were infinitely more than they de- 
served. The punishments that fell upon 
them fell upon the wrong shoulders. The 
English, who treated them for a long 
time with the most patient forbearance, 
were compelled at length, in self-defense, 
to adopt an attitude of rigorous severity ; 
and by the French, in whose cause they 
suffered everything, they were regarded 
as mere tools, to be used till destroyed. 


I 12 THE RAID FROM BEAUSfijOUR. 

At the door of the corrupt officials of 
France may be laid all their miseries. 

After the affair at Kenneticook Le 
Loutre found that Cobequid was no longer 
the place for him. He needed the shelter 
of Beausejour. There, by force of his 
fanatic zeal, his ability, and his power 
over the Acadians, he divided the author- 
ity of the fort with its corrupt command- 
ant. He never dreamed of the part 
Pierre had played that dreadful night on 
the Kenneticook. He knew Lecorbeau 
had somewhere picked up an English 
child. But a child was in his eyes quite 
too trivial a matter to call for any com- 
ment. 

As time went on Pierre s little one, as 
she was generally called — “la p’tite de 
Pierre” — picked up the French of her 
new Acadian home, and went far to for- 
getting her English. In the eyes of 
Lecorbeau and his wife she came to seem 
like one of their own, and she was a 
favorite with the whole family ; but to 
Pierre she clung as if he were her father 







“ ‘ EDIE,’ GOOD WIFE LECORBEAU WOULD SAY TO HER, 
‘ WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER ? ’ ” 


Pierre’s little one. 113 

and mother in one. As soon as she had 
learned a little French she was questioned 
minutely as to her parents and her home. 
Her name, Edie Howe, had at once been 
associated with that of the lamented 
captain. 

“ Edie,” good wife Lecorbeau would 
say to her, “ where is your mother } ” 

At this the child would shake her head 
sorrowfully for a moment, and pointing 
over the hills, would answer : 

“Away off there !” — and sometimes she 
would add, “ Poor mamma’s sick ! ” 

At last one day she seemed suddenly 
to remember, and cried as if she were an- 
nouncing a great discovery, “ Why, mam- 
ma’s in Halifax.” 

Mother Lecorbeau was not a little tri- 
umphant at having elicited this definite 
information. 

On the subject of her father the little 
one had not much to say. When ques- 
tioned about him she merely said that she 
was his little girl, and that he had gone 
away somewhere, and some bad people 
8 


I 14 the raid from BEAUSilJOUR. 

wouldn’t let him come back again. She 
said her mamma had cried a great deal 
while telling her that papa would never 
come back — and from this it was clear at 
once that the father was dead. To get 
any definite idea from the child as to the 
time of his death proved a vain endeavor; 
she was not very clear in her ideas of time. 
But she said he was a tall man and a 
soldier. She further declared that he 
hadn’t a lot of hair on his face, like father 
Lecorbeau, but was nice and smooth, like 
her Pierre, only with a mustache. All 
this tallied with a description of Captain 
Howe, so Lecorbeau concluded that she 
was H owe’s child. As for the people 
with whom she had been visiting in the 
hapless village of Kenneticook, they were 
evidently old servants of her father’s 
family. 

“ I was staying at nurse’s,” she used to 
say. “Uncle Willie sent me there be- 
cause my mamma was sick.” Of this 
Uncle Willie she talked so much and so 
often that Pierre said he was jealous. 


Pierre’s little one. 115 

While several years rolled by, bringing 
no great event to the cabin in the willows 
at the foot of Beausejour, a cloud was 
slowly gathering over the fortressed hill. 
The relations between France and Eng- 
land in Acadie were growing more and 
more strained. It was plain that a rup- 
ture must soon come. In the cabin, by 
the light of fire or candle, after the day’s 
work was done, Pierre and his father, 
with sometimes the old sergeant from the 
fort, used to talk over the condition of 
affairs. To Pierre and the sergeant it 
was obvious that France must win back 
Acadie, and that soon ; and they paid 
little heed to Lecorbeau’s sagacious com- 
parisons between the French and English 
methods of conducting the government. 
Lecorbeau, naturally did not feel like 
arguing his points with much determi- 
nation ; but across the well-scrubbed 
deal table he uttered several predictions 
which Pierre recalled when he saw them 
brought to pass. 

“ Here’s about how it stands,” re- 


Il6 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

marked the sergeant one night, shaking 
the ashes of his pipe into the hollow of 
his hand, “there’s hundreds upon hun- 
dreds now of your Acadians shifting round 
loose, waiting for a chance to get back to 
their old farms. They don’t dare go back 
while the English hold possession, for fear 
of His Reverence yonder — signifying, of 
course, Le Loutre — “ so they’re all ready 
to fight just as soon as France gives the 
word. They don’t care much for France, 
maybe — not much more than for the 
English — but they do just hanker after 
their old farms. When the government 
thinks it the right time, and sends us 
some troops from Quebec and Louis- 
burg, all the Acadians out of Acadie 
will walk in to take possession, and the 
Acadians in Acadie will bid good day to 
King George and help us kick the Eng- 
lish out of Halifax. It’s bound to come, 
sure as fate ; and pretty soon, I’m think- 
ing.” 

“ I believe you’re right ! ” assented 
Pierre, enthusiastically. 


Pierre’s little one. 117 

“ What would you think, now,” said 
Lecorbeau, suggestively, “ if the English 
should take it into their slow heads not 
to wait for all this to happen ? What 
would you do up there in the fort if some 
ships were to sail up to-morrow and land 
a little English army under Beausejour? 
You’ve got a priest and a greedy old 
woman (begging Monsieur Vergor’s 
pardon) to lead you. How long would 
Beausejour hold out } And suppose 
Beausejour was taken, where would the 
settlements be — Ouestkawk and Mem- 
ramcook, and even the fort on the St. 
John } Wouldn’t it rather knock on the 
head this rising of the Acadians, this 
‘ walking in and taking possession ’ of 
which you feel so confident } ” 

“ But we won’t give the English a 
chance!” cried the warlike pair, in al- 
most the same breath. “We’ll strike 
first. You’ll see!” 

Meanwhile the English were making 
ready to do just what Lecorbeau said they 
might do. At the same time the French 


Il8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSl&JOUR. 

at Quebec, at Louisburg, at Beausejour, 
though talking briskly about the great 
stroke by which Acadie was to be recap- 
tured, were too busy plundering the 
treasury to take any immediate steps. 
Following the distinguished example of 
the notorious intendant. Bigot, almost 
every official in New France had his 
fingers in the public purse. They were 
in no haste for the fray. 

The English, however, seeing what the 
French might do, naturally supposed they 
would try and do it. To prevent this, 
they were planning the capture of Beau- 
sejour. Governor Lawrence, in Halifax, 
andGovernor Shirley, in Boston, were pre- 
paring to join forces for the undertaking. 
In New England Shirley raised a regi- 
ment of two thousand volunteers, who 
mustered, in April of the year 1755, amid 
the quaint streets of Boston. This regi- 
ment was divided into two battalions, one 
of which was commanded by Colonel 
John Winslow, and the other by John 
Scott. After a month’s delay, waiting for 


PIERRE’S LITTLE ONE. II9 

muskets, the little army set sail for Beau- 
sejour. The chief command was in the 
hands of Colonel Moncton, who had been 
sent to Boston by Lawrence to arrange 
the expedition. 

On the night when Lecorbeau, Pierre, 
and the old sergeant were holding the 
conversation of which I have recorded a 
fragment, the fleet containing the Mas- 
sachusetts volunteers were already at 
Annapolis. A day or two later they were 
sailing up the restless tide of Fundy. On 
the first day of June they were sighted 
from the cloud-topped mountain of 
Chepody, or “ Chapeau Dieu^ As the 
sun went down the fleet cast anchor under 
the high bluffs of Far Ouestkawk, not 
three leagues from Beausejour. As the 
next dawn was breaking over the Minudie 
hills there arrived at the fort a little party 
of wearied Acadians, who had hastened 
up from Chepody to give warning. In- 
stantly all Beausejour became a scene of 
excitement. There was much to be done 
in the way of strengthening the earth- 


120 THE RAID FROM BEAUSJ&JOUR. 

works. Urgent messengers were sent 
out to implore reinforcements from 
Louisburg, while others called together 
all the Acadians of the neighborhood, to 
the number of fourteen hundred fighting 
men. As Pierre and his father were 
taking the rest of the family, with some 
supplies, to a little wooded semi-island 
beside the Tantramar, some miles from 
the fort, Lecorbeau said to his son : 

“ I rather like the idea of that bold 
stroke of yours and the sergeant’s ! 
When do you think it will be carried 
out?” 

Pierre looked somewhat crestfallen, but 
he mustered up spirit to reply : 

“ Just wait till we’ve beaten off those 
fellows. Then you’ll see what we’ll do.” 

“Well,” said his father, “ Pll wait as 
patiently as possible ! ” 

After placing the mother and children 
in their refuge, which was already 
thronged, our two Acadians, with a tear- 
ful farewell, hastened back to take their 
part in the defense of Beausejour. 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 


I2I 


CHAPTER VIIL 


The New Englanders. 



HE refuge of good wife Lecorbeau, 


and the children, and “ Pierre’s little 
one,” was a wooded bit of rising ground 
which, before the diking-in of the Tan- 
tramar marshes, had been an island at 
high water. It was still called Isle au 
Tantramar. Among the trees, under rude 
lean-to tents and improvised shelters of 
all sorts, were gathered the women and 
children of Beausejour, out of range of 
the cannon balls that they knew would 
soon be flying over their homes. The 
weather was balmy, and their situation 
not immediately painful, but their hearts 
were a prey to the wildest anxieties. 

By this time the New Englanders had 
landed over against Fort Lawrence, and 
had joined their forces with those of the 
English at the fort. The numbers of the 
attacking army filled the Acadians with 


122 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^^JOUR. 

apprehension of defeat. Many of them, 
like Lecorbeau, had in the past taken 
oath of allegiance to King George, and 
these feared lest, in the probable event of 
the English being victorious, they should 
be put to death as traitors. This difficulty 
was solved,and their fears much mitigated, 
in a thoroughly novel way. The com- 
mandant assured them solemnly that if 
they refused to join in the defense of the 
fort he would shoot them down like dogs. 
Upon this the Acadians conceived them- 
selves released from all responsibility in 
the matter, and went quite cheerfully to 
work. Even Lecorbeau feeling himself 
secured by Vergor’s menace, was quietly 
andfearlessly interested in theapproaching 
struggle. Lecorbeau, was no faint-heart, 
though his far-seeing sagacity often made 
him appear so in the eyes of those who did 
not know him well. As for Pierre, he was 
now in his element, sniffing the battle like 
a young warhorse, and forgetful of the 
odds against him. Le Loutre was every- 
where at once, tireless, seeing everything, 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 23 

spurring the work, and worth a hundred 
Vergors in such a crisis as this. 

Beausejour was a strong post, a penta- 
gon with heavy ramparts of earth, with 
two bombproofs, so called, and mounting 
twenty-five pieces of artillery. Some of 
the guns were heavy metal for those days 
and that remote defense. I have seen them 
used as gateposts by the more aristocratic 
of Beausejour’s presentinhabitants. With- 
in the fort was a garrison of one hundred 
and sixty regulars. Three hundred Aca- 
dians were added to this garrison — among 
them being Pierre and his father. The 
rest of the Acadians spread themselves in 
bands through the woods and uplands, in 
order to carry on a system of harassing 
attacks. 

Across the Missaguash, some distance 
from its mouth, there was a bridge called 
Pont-a-Buot, and thither, after a day or 
two of reconnoitering, Colonel Moncton 
led his forces from Fort Lawrence. They 
marched in long column up the Missa- 
guash shore, wading through the rich 


124 the raid from beausejour. 

young grasses. As they approached they 
saw that the bridge had been broken 
down, and the fragments used to build a 
breastwork on the opposite shore. This 
breastwork, as far as they could see, was 
unoccupied. 

Appearances in this case were deceptive. 
Hidden behind the breastwork was a 
body of troops from Beausejour. There 
were nearly four hundred of them — Aca- 
dians and Indians, with a few regulars to 
give them steadiness. Pierre, as might 
have been expected, was among the band, 
beside his instructor, the old sergeant. 

Trembling with excitement, though 
outwardly calm enough, Pierre watched, 
through the chinks of the breastwork, the 
approach of the hostile column. Just as 
it reached the point opposite, where the 
bridge had been broken away, he heard a 
sharp command from an officer just be- 
hind him. Instantly, he hardly knew how, 
he foundhimself on his feet, yelling fiercely, 
and firing as fast as he could reload his 
musket. Through the rifts of the smoke 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 25 

he could see that the hot fire was doing 
execution in the English ranks. Presently 
he heard the old sergeant remark : 

“ There come the guns ! Now look out 
for a squall!” — and he saw two fieldpieces 
being hurriedly dragged into position. 
The next thing he knew there was a roar 
— the breastwork on one side of him flew 
into fragments, and he saw a score of his 
comrades dead about him. The roar was 
repeated several times, but his blood was 
up, and he went on loading and firing as 
before, without a thought of fear. At 
length the sergeant grabbed him by the 
arm. 

“WeVe got to skip out of this and cut 
for cover in those bushes yonder. We’ll 
do more good there, and this breastwork, 
or what s left of it, is no longer worth 
holding.” 

Pierre looked about him astonished, 
and found they were almost alone. He 
shouldered his musket and strode sullenly 
into cover, the old sergeant laughingly 
slapping him on the back. 


126 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^IJOUR. 

Firing irregularly from the woods, the 
French succeeded in making it very un- 
pleasant for the English in their work of 
laying a new bridge. But, notwithstand- 
ing, the bridge grew before their eyes. 
Pierre was disgusted. 

“ Were beaten, it seems, already,” he 
cried to the sergeant. 

“Not at all!” responded the latter, 
cheerfully. “ All this small force could 
be expected to do has been already 
done. We have suffered but slightly, 
while we have caused the enemy consid- 
erable loss. That’s all we set out to do. 
We’re not strong enough to stand up to 
them ; we’re only trying to weaken them 
all we can. See, now they’re crossing — 
and it’s about time we were out of this!” 

It was indeed so. The bridge was 
laid, the coin- was hastening across. 
A bugle rang out the signal for retreat, 
and the fire from the bushes ceased. In 
a moment the Acadian force had dis- 
solved, scattering like a cloud of mist 
before the sun. Pierre found himself. 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 27 

with a handful of his comrades, speeding 
back to the fort. Others sought their 
proper rendezvous. There was nothing 
for the English to chase, so they kept 
their column unbroken. As Pierre en- 
tered the fort he saw the enemy estab- 
lishing themselves in the uplands, about 
a mile and a half from Beausejour. 

When night fell the heavens were lit 
up with a glare that carried terror to 
the women and children on Isle au Tan- 
tramar. Vergor had set fire to the 
chapel, and to all the houses of Beause- 
jour that might shelter an approach to 
the ramparts. “ Alas,” cried the un- 
happy mother Lecorbeau to the children 
about her, “ we are once more homeless, 
without a roof to shelter us!” and she 
and all the women broke into loud 
lamentations. The children, however, 
seemed rather to enjoy the scene, and 
Edie told an interested audience about 
the great blaze there was, and how red 
the sky looked, the night her dear Pierre 
carried her away from Kenneticook. 


128 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

For several days the English made no 
further advance, and to Pierre and his 
fellow-Acadians in the fort the suspense 
became very trying. The regulars took 
the delay most philosophically, seeming 
content to wait just as long as the enemy 
would permit them. Pierre began to 
wish he was with one of the guerilla 
parties outside, for these were busy all 
the time, making little raids, cutting off 
foraging parties, skirmishing with pickets, 
and retreating nimbly to the hills when- 
ever attacked in force. At length there 
came a change. A battalion of New 
Englanders, about five hundred strong, 
advanced to within easy range of the 
fort, and occupied a stony ridge well 
adapted for their purpose. 

A braggart among the French officers, 
one Vannes by name, begged to be al- 
lowed to sally forth with a couple of 
hundred men and rout the audacious 
provincials. Vergor sanctioned the en- 
terprise, and the boaster marched 
proudly forth with his company. Arriv- 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 29 

ing in front of the New Englanders he 
astounded the latter, and supplied his 
comrades in the fort with food for end- 
less mirth, by facing the right about and 
leading his shame-faced files quietly 
back to Beausejour. Pierre was pro- 
foundly thankful to the old sergeant for 
having dissuaded him from joining in 
the sally. Covering Vannes’s humiliation 
the fort opened a determined fire, which 
after a time disabled one of the small 
mortars which the assailants had placed in 
position. Gradually the English brought 
up the rest of their guns, and on the fol- 
lowing day a sharp artillery duel was car- 
ried on between the fort and the ridge. 

Within the ramparts things went but 
ill, and Pierre became despondent as his 
eyes were opened to the almost universal 
corruption about him. Enlightened by 
the shrewd comments of the old ser- 
geant, the quiet penetration of his father’s 
glance, which saw everything, he soon 
realized that fraud and self-seeking were 
become the ruling impulse in Beause- 
9 


130 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 

jour. “ Like master, like man ” was a 
proverb which he saw daily fulfilled. 
Vergor thought more of robbing than 
of serving his country, and from him 
his subordinates took their cue. Le 
Loutre, with his fiery fanaticism, went 
up, by contrast, in the estimation of the 
honest-hearted boy. As the siege dragged 
on some of the Acadians became home- 
sick, or anxious about their families. 
These begged leave to go home ; which 
was of course refused. Others quietly 
went without asking. An air of hope- 
lessness stole over the garrison, which 
was deepened to despair when news 
came from Louisburg that no help 
could be expected from that quarter, the 
town being strictly blockaded by the 
English. 

At length, in an ignoble way, came the 
crisis. In one of the two vaulted cham- 
bers of masonry which were dignified 
with the title of “ bombproofs,” a party 
of French officers, with a captive English 
lieutenant, were sitting at breakfast. A 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. I3I 

shell from the English mortars dropped 
through the ceiling, exploded, and killed 
seven of the company. Vergor, with 
other officers and Le Loutre, was in the 
second bombproof His martial spirit 
was confounded at the thought that the 
one retreat might turn out to be no 
more “bomb-proof” than the other. Most 
of his subordinate officers shared his 
feelings, and in a few minutes, to the 
pleasant astonishment of the English, 
and in spite of the furious protests of Le 
Loutre and of two or three officers who 
were not lost to all sense of manhood, a 
white flag was hoisted on Beausejour. 
The firing straightway ceased, on both 
sides, and an officer was sent forth to 
negotiate a capitulation. 

Pierre threw down his musket, and 
looked at his father, who stood watching 
the proceedings with a smile of grim 
contempt. Then he turned to the ser- 
geant, who was smoking philosophically. 

“Is this the best France can do ? ” he 
cried, in a sharp voice. 


132 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 

“ The English do certainly show to 
rather the better advantage,” interposed 
Lecorbeau ; but the old sergeant hastened 
to answer, in a tone of sober grief : 

“You must’nt judge la belle France by 
the men she has been sending out to 
Canada and Acadie these late years, my 
Pierre. These are the creatures of Bigot, 
the notorious. It is he and they that 
are dragging our honor in the dust ! ” 

“Well,” exclaimed Pierre, “ I shall stay 
and see this thing through ; but as there 
is no more fighting to be done, you, 
father, had better go and take care of 
mother and the children. There is 
nothing to be gained, but a good deal to 
be risked, by staying here and being 
taken prisoner. The English may not 
think much of the powers of compulsion 
of a man that can’t fight any better than 
our commandant.” 

“You’re right, my boy,” said Lecor- 
beau, cheerfully. “ My situation just 
now is a delicate one, to say the least of 
it. Well, good-bye for the present. By 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 33 

this time to-morrow, if all goes as ex- 
peditiously as it has hitherto, we shall 
meet in our own cabin again.” 

With these words Lecorbeau walked 
coolly forth, on the side of the fort op- 
posite to the besiegers, and strolled across 
the marshes toward Isle au Tantramar. 
Two or three more, who were in the same 
awkward position as Lecorbeau, proceed- 
ed to follow his example. The rest, con- 
sidering that for them there was now no 
danger, the fighting being done, stayed to 
see the end, and to pick up what they 
could in the way of spoils. As for Le 
Loutre, realizing that his cause was lost 
and his neck in the utmost jeopardy, he 
hid himself in a skillful disguise and fled 
in haste for Quebec. 

The same evening, at seven o’clock, 
the garrison marched out of Beausejour 
with the honors of war ; whereupon a 
body of New Englanders marched in, 
hoisted the flag of England, and fired a 
royal salute from the ramparts of the fort. 
By the terms of the capitulation the gar- 


134 the raid from beaus:6jour. 

rison was to be sent at once to Louisburg, 
and those Acadianswho in taking part in 
the defense had violated their oath of 
allegiance to King George were to be par- 
doned as having done it under compulsion. 
All such matters of detail having been 
arranged satisfactorily, Vergor gave a 
grand dinner to the English and French 
officers in the stronghold of which his 
cowardice had robbed his country. The 
fort was rechristened “ Fort Cumber- 
land,” and the curiously assorted guests, 
all joined most cordially in drinking to the 
new title. 

Onthefollowingday Lecorbeau brought 
his wife and family back to the cottage 
under the willows, and Pierre was re- 
united to his beloved “ petite.” Isle au 
Tantramar was soon deserted, for the 
families whose homes at Beausejour had 
just been burnt returned to camp amid 
the ashes and erected rude temporary 
shelters. They were all overjoyed at 
the leniency of the English ; but a blow 
more terrible than any that had yet be- 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 35 

fallen them was hanging over this most 
unhappy people. 

Among the English officers encamped 
at Beausejour was the slim young lieuten- 
ant who had led the band of avengers at 
Kenneticook. He spoke French ; he was 
interested in the Acadian people ; and he 
moved about among them inquiring into 
their minds and troubles. Thecabinunder 
the willows, almost the only house left 
standing in Beausejour village, at once 
attracted him, and he sauntered down the 
hill to visit it. 

The household was in a bustle getting 
things once more to rights ; and a 
group of children played chattering 
about the low, red, ocher-washed door. 
As the lieutenant approached, Lecorbeau 
came forth to meet and greet him. The 
Englishman was just on the pointof grasp- 
ing the Acadian’s outstretched hand, when 
a shrill cry of “ Uncle Willie ” rang in his 
ears, and he found one of the children 
clinging to him rapturously. For an in- 
stant he was utterly bewildered, gazing 


136 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 

down on the sunburned fair little face up- 
turned to his. Then he snatched the child 
to his heart, exclaiming passionately, 
“ My Edie, my darling!” To Lecorbeau, 
and to his wife and Pierre, who now ap- 
peared, the scene was clear in an instant ; 
and a weight of misery rolled down upon 
the heart of Pierre as he realized that now 
he should lose the little one he loved so 
well. 

For a few moments the child and her 
new-found uncle were entirely absorbed 
in each other. But presently the little 
one looked around and pointed to Pierre. 

“ Here’s my Pierre !” she explained in 
her quaint French — “and there’s papa 
Lecorbeau, and mamma Lecorbeau, and 
there’s little J acques, and Bibi, and Vergie, 
and Tiste. W on’t you come and live with 
us, too } ” 

Her uncle covered her face anew with 
his kisses. “ My darling,” he said, “ you 
will come with me to Halifax, to mam- 
ma!” 

“And leave Pierre ?” she cried, her eyes 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 37 

filling. “ I can’t leave my Pierre, who 
saved me from the cruel Indians.” 

This recalled the young man’s thoughts 
to the mystery of the little one’s presence 
at Beausejour. Lecorbeau gave him a 
bench, and sitting down beside him told 
the story, while Edie sat with one hand in 
her uncle’s clasp and the other in that of 
Pierre. TheyoungEnglishmanwasdeeply 
moved. Having heard all, and questioned 
of the matter minutely, he rose and shook 
Pierre by the hand, thanking him in 
few words, indeed, but in a voice that 
spoke his emotion. Then he poured 
out his gratitude to Lecorbeau and his 
wife for their goodness to this child of 
their foes ; and little by little he gathered 
the Acadian’s feelings toward the English, 
and the part he had played throughout. 
At length he said : 

“ Can you allow me to quarter myself 
here for the present } I cannot take Edie 
into the camp, and she would not be will- 
ing if I could. I see from her love for you 
how truly kind she has found you. I want 


138 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 

to be with the little one as much as pos- 
sible ; and, moreover, my presence here 
may prove of use to you in the near 
future.” 

The significance of these last words 
Lecorbeau did not care to question, but 
after a glance at his wife, who looked 
dumfounded at the proposition, he said : 

“You may well realize, monsieur, that 
with this small cabin and this large family 
we can give you but poor accommodation. 
But such as it is, you are more than wel- 
come to it. Your coming will be to us an 
honor and a pleasure, and a most valued 
protection.” 

Thelieutenantat once took up hisabode 
in Lecorbeau’s cabin. When, a few weeks 
later, the first scenes were enacted in the 
tragedy known as the “ Expulsion of the 
Acadians,” the friendship of the young 
lieutenant and of Edie stood Lecorbeau 
in good stead. This storm which scattered 
to the four winds the remnant of the Aca- 
dians, passed harmlessly over the cabin 
beneath the willows of Beaus6jour. When 


THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 39 

Acadie was once more quiet, and Edie and 
her uncle went to Halifax, Lecorbeau 
added fertile acres to his farm ; while 
Pierre accompanied his “ petite ” to the 
city, where his own abilities, and the 
lieutenant’s steadfast friendship, won him 
advancement and success. 




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Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen 
from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but 
was befriended and cared for, until he was able to re- 
turn to his owner. 

B — 6 


Z, C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern 
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of 
the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 

The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm 
of “The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome 
the further account of the adventures of Baydaw and 
the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith. 

The Best of Friends. 

This continues the experiences of the Farrier’s dog and 
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known 
charming style. 

Down in Dixie. 

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of 
Alabama children who move to Florida. and grow up in 
the South. 


By MARIAN W. WILDMAN 

Loyalty Island. 

An account of the adventures of four children and 
their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their 
brother from the suspicion of dishonesty. 


Theodore and Theodora. 


This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mis 
chievous twins, and continues the adventures of the 
interesting group of children in “ Loyalty Island.” 

B — 6 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 

The Cruise of the Yacht Dido. 

The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a 
fishing boat to earn money to pay for a college course, 
and of their adventures while exploring in search of 
hidden treasure. 

The Lord of the Air 

The Story of the Eagle 

The King of the Mamozekel 

The Story of the Moose 

The Watchers of the Camp=fire 

THE STORY OF THE PANTHER ' ' 

The Haunter of the Pine Gloom 

THE STORY OF THE LYNX 

The Return to the Trails 

THE STORY OF THE BEAR 

The Little People of the Sycamore 

THE STORY OF THE RACCOON 

By OTHER AUTHORS 

The Great Scoop. 

By MOLLY ELLIOT SEA IV ELL 

A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and 
of a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed 
thereon. 

John Whopper. 

The late Bishop Clark’s popular story of the boy who 
fell through the earth and came out in China, with a 
new introduction by Bishop Potter. 

B — 7 


Z. C PAGE AND COMPANY 


The Dole Twins. 

By KATE UPSON CLARK 

The adventures of two little people who tried to earn 
money to buy crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent 
description of child-life about 1812, which will greatly 
interest and amuse the children of to-day, whose life is 
widely different. 

Larry Hudson’s Ambition. 

By JAMES OTIS, author of “TobyTyler,” etc. 

Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard 
work and enterprise gain him his ambition, — an educa- 
tion and a start in the world. 

The Little Christmas Shoe. 

By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF 

A touching story of Yule-tide. 

Wee Dorothy. 

By LAURA UPDEGRAFF 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion 
of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and 
setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the 
story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether 
wholesome in every way. 

The King of the Golden River: a 

Legend of Stiria. By JOHN RUSKIN 
Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally 
intended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon be- 
came known and made a place for itself. 

A Child’s Garden of Verses. 

By L. R. STEVENSON 

Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to 
need description. 

B — 8 





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